


Blood Bound

by Xiathia



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dominant/Top Dean, Jealous Dean Winchester, M/M, Possessive Dean Winchester, Top Sam
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-26
Updated: 2013-11-14
Packaged: 2017-12-24 17:23:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 31,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/942587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xiathia/pseuds/Xiathia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Samuel Singer, unable to fight off the bullies at his new school, turns to the only person that everyone fears for help: an introverted loner named Dean. As Sam struggles to get closer to the unwilling and rebellious teen, he finds that they're connected in a way that not even he can comprehend. Attempting to uncover the truth, Sam soon realizes that some secrets were meant to stay hidden.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**PROLOGUE**

**Lawrence, Kansas**

**November 10, 1983**

Black smoke polluted the night air as firefighters rushed to stoke the fiery flames surrounding the Winchester household, their attempts to save the lives of the people inside fruitless. The entire neighborhood flooded the streets in a panic as sirens echoed in their abused eardrums, the colored lights of the police cars casting an eerie glow on their frightened faces. Resting against the back door of an ambulance was a little boy, the cries coming from the baby in his arms quieting almost immediately when he placed his quivering lips to the infant's forehead.

"Don't you worry, little man," he whispered. "Everything's gonna be alright. I promise."

The older boy glanced up at the window of his bedroom in terror, desperately searching for the pair of yellow eyes that met his as he escaped the burning house with his baby brother. The demon inside was gone, he was sure of it. But the damage he'd left behind would stay with the boy forever.

"We're going to be separated for a while, Sammy," he said, tears falling from his green eyes. "I'm sure of it. But don't you worry 'cause I'm gonna find you. I'll always find you, baby boy."

The stoic boy remained calm as he came to grips with the knowledge that both of his parents were dead. He remained calm as he was taken away by the strange people who promised both him and little Sammy a good home, their words as meaningless to him as the situation in which he currently found himself. He figured there was no need to get hysterical over bullshit that he couldn't control, no matter how badly his entire body was screaming for the volcano inside of him to erupt. It wasn't until they tried taking Sam away from him that he finally gave in to the impulses telling him to break, falling to the his knees before everyone and begging for them to bring his brother back. Rather than listen to the pleas of the little boy before them, they took the screaming infant to whereabouts unknown, leaving the child left behind to pick up the fragmented pieces of his shattered heart. He was so distraught over his current predicament that the hunting skills his father began teaching him over the course of a few months failed to kick into action, leaving him clueless to the attention he seemed to have attracted by a certain someone peering at him from a distance.

Beyond the tears and pain, far from the prying eyes of the people surrounding the screaming boy, was a man hiding in the shadows, carefully watching the agony displayed all over the sobbing child's face with an intense curiosity. He appeared to be in his late forties, with graying hair and piercing yellow eyes. His nasty sneer gave his already sinister features an even greater edge, the menacing look he exhibited enough to frighten any passerby that dared take a step into the darkness he retreated to in an attempt to mask his all too foreboding presence. When his appetite for inquiry was sated, he made his escape through the double doors leading out of the building and headed to the nearest pay phone, extracting a number out of his coat pocket.

"What?" said a gruff voice on the other end.

"They're going to be separated. I'm going to need you to keep an eye on them as I have…other matters to attend to. You know what you need to do?"

"Affirmative. But…which one?"

"Doesn't matter, really. They're both important to me. I need you to keep on top of things. If my plans get derailed because of you, I'll be sure to pay you a visit personally. You do not want that, I assure you."

For a brief moment, there was nothing but silence. The yellow-eyed man scowled at the phone, clearly irritated at the lack of communication coming from the other end.

"I want you to keep your end of the bargain, Azazel. I'm not goin' into this if you don't plan on bringin' her back."

"Don't you worry," Azazel grinned. "I'll keep up my end. Just keep your eye on those boys."

The line disconnected as Azazel dropped the phone without placing it on the receiver, exiting the booth and disappearing down a long stretch of road that led to a secluded cabin away from the general public. As he entered the living room, he sat on a nearby recliner and stared disinterestedly at the man standing beside the fireplace, the anguish he suffered made all the more apparent by his disheveled appearance. His masculine features, combined with the ragged jeans and heavy boots he wore, made Azazel think of him as a "mountain man" type, one of those guys that could hoist a woman over a hard shoulder and drag her kicking and screaming to his bed. The thought made him smile, the image of this man raping an unsuspecting female too great a thought to ignore.

The man being so carefully dissected by his irreprehensible foe turned to face the detestable creäture before him with a disdain so palpable, it was a wonder the object of its glare didn't burst into flames. Azazel smiled wickedly at the primal hatred all over his face, the sinful desires of the flesh a potent aphrodisiac to the evil man.

"So, we meet again…John Winchester."

"Just tell me what you want me to do."

Azazel's brows furrowed in confusion. "Do? I don't want you to do anything, Johnny boy. I'm goin' to do it all for ya. You see,-" he leaned forward in his chair to pick up the handle of a large dagger, pointing it at John while he spoke- "I'm going to kill you. And when I do, you are going to do something very important for me. You are going to help me realize my vision. An entire army of demons will be grateful to you for your service to our cause…but let's not get ahead of ourselves. Tell me, does your offer still stand?"

"Yes," he replied unhesitatingly. "Take my lousy soul if that's what you want, just don't hurt my boys."

"Oh, don't you worry…they'll be well taken care of."

Getting up from his place on the chair, Azazel stood in front of John and placed the sharp point of the dagger to the other man's chest, a lopsided grin tugging at the corner of his lips. "Do you accept?"

John took a deep breath and relaxed as every bone in his body loosened, thoughts of his boy's smiling faces washing away each painful emotion that threatened to take hold of whatever control he still possessed.

_This is for them. It's all for them._

"I accept."

Azazel plunged the blade deep into the heart of the man in front of him, watching with fascination as the life drained from his chocolate-brown eyes. Blood dripped from the wound in thin rivulets, staining the thick carpet beneath the demon's feet. Disgusted at the mess left behind by the irritating mortal, he shoved the body off of his weapon and stepped over the crimson puddle to the kitchen, washing the dagger meticulously. When he was finished, he shot a glance behind him to the dead body now laying on the floor of his living room, shaking his head at the man's astounding ignorance.

"And to think, you actually thought your boys were safe from me. Little do you know, those darlings of yours will soon be mine. You can bank on that, Johnny."

The demon fell to the floor as his deranged laugh penetrated the night air, completely oblivious to the pair of brown eyes watching him from the outside of his kitchen window.

 

 


	2. Damaged Goods

"You've got to be kidding me."

Sam Singer stared at his new school in disgust, desperately trying to find something positive about the terror his father had just reigned upon him. All those years of home schooling down the drain because Bobby insisted on sending him to one of these oppressive institutions which would no doubt force their fascist views down his fucking throat. They didn't even give the kids a chance to express their individuality, everything that makes them different stripped away in the form of those atrocious school uniforms as if they weren't allowed to have an identity of their own. He wouldn't have been surprised if they had rules on proper etiquette as well, because god forbid the children that come there to learn have a personality that defies the impossible standards set forth by the dictatorial ass jockeys educating them.

As Sam contemplated turning around and walking home, he caught a glimpse of a boy approaching the building, the cigarette dangling from his full lips lighting up with every drag he took. Sam swallowed hard at the sight of him, the boy's muscles making his pupils dilate with lust. The student glanced up and caught Sam's eye, his brows furrowing in confusion before a tiny, knowing smile formed on his handsome face. He leaned up against the brick wall and took another drag, keeping his attention focused on Sam as he inhaled the black smoke into his abused lungs. When his tongue came out to massage his pink lips, Sam almost came in his uniform, the sex appeal oozing from the kid's every pore doing strange things to the love-sick boy.

"Ok, I change my mind," Sam said to himself. "Maybe this won't be a bad place after all."

The spell he was placed under was disrupted by the sound of the bell, the sound making Sam wince. Tension mounted as he made his way to his first class, the jitters that came with being a new student finally managing to take hold of his insides. He couldn't remember a time when he had felt this nervous, even on those rare occasions when his father allowed him to go on hunts. He assumed it was because he was never very good with people, the idea of locking himself up in his bedroom and burying his nose in a book a hell of a lot more tempting than interfacing with someone who was most likely a supernatural creature of some sort. Maybe if he allowed himself to believe that certain people could be trusted, he'd have more luck in the friendship department. Being normal would also be a plus, but that was a no go as far as he was concerned.

"Hey!"

Sam turned at the shouting coming from behind him, eyes widening as he took in the form of the boy he'd been ogling over just moments before. He was even more beautiful up close, with long eyelashes that fell over intense blue eyes in soft wisps of black hairs which fluttered shamelessly in the bright sunlight peeking through the hallway windows. The chestnut strands of his long bangs were parted to the side of his face, his fingers reaching out to smooth them behind his ears as he shot a seductive smile Sam's way.

"So, what's cookin,' good lookin'?

"I beg your pardon?"

"Don't play coy with me," the boy smiled. "I saw you outside earlier, lookin' my body up and down as if I were a piece of prime rib. I'm Seth."

"I-I'm Sam."

"So, Sam…wanna go out tomorrow night? A couple of the guys are gonna have a bonfire. You're welcome to join us."

Sam could feel his heart beating through his chest as he contemplated Seth's offer, completely ignoring the little voice inside of him advising against the attraction he felt for the strange boy. His instincts told him that he should take this slow, make sure his crush wasn't some bloodthirsty vampire before allowing him to get too close. But the call of his wild loins was too strong a force to ignore, the raging fire burning deep within his soul silencing all rational thought. Before he knew what he was doing, he found himself accepting the boy's request, the shame he felt for giving away his address so easily disappearing when Seth's bottom lip found its way between his pearly white teeth.

"Great! So, I'll see you tomorrow night. Pick you up around…seven?"

Seth was gone before Sam could give his answer, his retreating form vanishing beyond the group of bodies invading the hallway. He was on cloud nine, he could feel it. His first day at a real school and instead of the hell he was expecting to walk into, he gets a date within the first five minutes of being there to the hottest guy this side of the Mississippi. It finally looked like things were starting to turn around for him. He just hoped he didn't screw things up the way he always did.

* * *

"Hey, how was your day?"

Sam threw his backpack on the floor of the living room and plopped down on the couch next to his father, grabbing the bag of Cheetos on the coffee table. "Fine. I got a date tomorrow night."

Bobby's happy expression turned suspicious. "Did you make sure he was okay?"

"Okay? Believe it or not, not everyone on the damn planet is an agent of hell, dad."

"Well, they damn well could be," he grumbled, turning his attention back to the television. "Saw a kid with the most gorgeous car today. Looked like he went to your school."

Sam groaned, his head falling back on the couch cushions. "I don't want to talk about school. My entire time there was an absolute disaster, with the exception of Seth. All of my teachers seemed to have a stick up their ass about me being there. And this one guy? Total freak. He's always staring at me as if he knows something I don't. It's kind of creepy."

Bobby snorted. "No offense, but we're the last people on earth who should be calling anybody creepy."

"Yeah, but you weren't there, Bobby. He has this thing in his eyes when he looks at me. It's almost as if…as if he knows me. Is that crazy?"

"You really need to get out more, kid. I think I've cooped you up in this damn house for far too long. It's about time you got out in the real world and learned to stand on your own two feet. I think I'm glad you're going on this date of yours. It'll give ya a chance to mingle with something other than your dusty old books."

Sam watched his father get up and walk out of the living room, letting out a sigh as he looked out of the open window. Sometimes he wondered why he was so different from other people. For as long as he could remember, the only person he'd ever had to lean on was Bobby. He was the only thing in this world capable of making him feel an emotion other than total despondence, depression evaporating at the touch of his father's rough yet gentle hand. That seemed to work for him when he was a child, all of his worries nonexistent just as long as he had Bobby by his side. But ever since he became a teenager, he started noticing that the little things he once took comfort in didn't seem to give him the peace of mind that it used to. He…wanted more. The overwhelming guilt he felt as a result of his own selfish desires took its toll on his sanity, making him feel like the worst son in the world for feeling like he needed something more than the one person who took him in when his own parents abandoned him. He wouldn't be anywhere without Bobby and yet the poor man who'd been his life from the very beginning suddenly wasn't good enough for his spoiled ass. It was no wonder his own family didn't want him. He was a brat who couldn't be satisfied with what he had, constantly unhappy regardless of the many blessings he received.

Folding his arms over his chest, Sam leaned back and sulked on the plush furniture underneath him, hoping that someday he'd be able to find the strength to appreciate what he knew he didn't deserve.

_I'm sorry, Bobby. I'm so sorry for being me._

* * *

The chiming of the clock on the wall signaled the awaited hour of Sam's date, the sound springing the teenager up and out of the bathroom before he even realized he'd moved. Taking the steps two at a time, he stopped at the front door and caught a glimpse of Seth from the other side, the smile the boy gave him wreaking havoc on his frazzled nerves _. This is it, Sammy. Don't scare this one off._

"Hi," Sam said shyly.

"Hey there, Sam. You look great."

_He says I look great. He must be lying._ "Thanks."

"Ready to go? I stole my grandmother's Mercedes so we'd have a ride. Hope you don't tell on me."

"You stole an old lady's car? Wow. Looks like I have a little outlaw on my hands," Sam joked.

Leaning in so that their foreheads were touching, Seth responded. "Baby, you have no idea."

Sam gulped and followed Seth to the car, desperately trying to ignore the painful bulge tenting the front of his jeans. As he slipped into the front seat beside his date, he turned around and noticed the boys in the backseat staring at him as if he'd just murdered their mothers, each scornful expression more menacing than the next.

"Don't you worry about them," Seth said cheerfully. "They're upset because they just found out I used to fuck all their girlfriends."

"You're a dick," one of the boys spat. "Why didn't you tell me you used to have a thing with Naomi?"

"None of that matters right now, Roger. Come on. Let's get this show on the road. Maybe some booze will turn those frowns upside down."

Seth peeled out of the parking lot at full speed, cruising down the street so fast that all of the scenery on Sam's side of the car passed by in a total blur. They drove for what seemed like an hour, finally coming to a secluded beach on the other side of town. As they got out of the car and made their way down to the water, Sam took a moment to appreciate the sight before him, having never been to the beach a day in his life. Seth noticed his instant attraction and put an arm around his waist, placing a gentle kiss to the side of his mouth.

"C'mon," he whispered. "Let's go."

Sam gasped at the warmth of the boy's hard body, their close proximity sending waves of pleasure shooting straight up his shivering spine. Seth smiled at him as they sat by the fire his friends started, snuggling up to Sam's side as a way of escaping from the cold. The rays of the setting sun split into pieces across the darkening sky, the dull light shining lightly across the boy's flawless face. He looked so beautiful, each part of him exhibiting a perfection that had Sam fighting for air every time he set his eyes on the kid, which tended to be pretty often, judging by the way he kept hyperventilating.

The entire night was terribly romantic. Seth's friends would roughhouse and talk about stupid shit that Sam didn't give a rat's ass about and Seth would whisper filthy words into his ears that made his cheeks blush a dark shade of red. It was if the boy only had eyes for Sam, a fact that he couldn't help but find extremely endearing. He somehow knew, even before he'd stepped foot outside of his house, that he was going to end up in the backseat of Seth's car, and that didn't seem to bother him nearly as much as he thought it would.

"Wanna go someplace where we can be alone," Seth whispered. "Please, Sam. Need you."

Sam's breath hitched. "Okay."

Fast forward fifteen minutes and Sam is on his back underneath the stars, the top of the car down so he could see the night sky. Seth's fist was wrapped tightly around his aching cock, pre-come slicking the way as he ran his fingers up and down the hard length. Sam moaned in ecstasy as the boy jacked him off fast and hard, the orgasm he'd felt building for the last fifteen minutes coming closer and closer with every stroke. Just when he was about to come, the boy's hand squeezed him at the base, forcing a sound of protest from Sam's kiss swollen lips.

"What are you doing? Don't stop, Seth. I want you."

"Don't worry, baby," Seth murmured. "I'm not gonna stop. I just want to be inside you. Don't you want me inside you?"

Sam froze. He should have known something like this was going to happen, but he was too caught up in the pleasure Seth was giving him to care. The thought of losing his virginity sent shivers of trepidation coursing through his tense muscles. He liked the boy, liked him enough that giving his innocence away to him didn't seem like such a bad idea…but he couldn't do it now. Not now.

"I'm sorry, Seth. I want to. I really do. But I'm just not ready. I could…maybe suck you off. You know…if you want."

"C'mon, Sam. Don't hold out on me. I can make it so good for you, baby."

Sam sighed in ecstasy as the hand on his cock resumed its strokes, the urgency from before coming back tenfold at the sensations spreading through every inch of his body.

"I want to, Seth. I want you so bad. But I can't. I'm…I'm just not r-ready."

Sam opened his eyes and stared at Seth in confusion when he felt the boy moving away, desperately trying to hide the panic swirling in his body at the thought of being dumped because he couldn't find the courage to put out. He let out a surprised gasp as his legs were forcibly spread wide open, his eyes widening in horror as he realized what was about to happen.

"You know something, Sam? This is all your fucking fault. First you stare at me and get me all hot for you, then you tease me all night and use me like all I'm good for is strokin' your prick?"

"No!" Sam yelled. "No, it's not like that. Please, Seth. Please, don't do this to me. I'm a virgin. I'm just not ready!"

"You're a virgin?" Seth asked, an evil grin forming on his face. "Christ, Sam. Why didn't you tell me? Fuck, this is gonna be great. You're my little whore, baby. My _virgin_  whore. You're gonna get fucked so good, baby boy. Just you wait and see."

Sam tried to fight him off, but it was impossible. The boy overpowered him by a mile. Before he knew what was happening, he found himself naked and moaning as Seth's tongue wiggled around inside his ass, ashamed of himself for getting off on being raped. He'd given up fighting a long time ago, instead letting his body fall limp as Seth got what he wanted. The tip of the boy's tongue licked at his prostate and Sam screamed, confused at the intense sensations flooding through him. He'd never felt anything like this before, the pleasure from being slowly eaten out intensifying as a hand wrapped tightly around his aching cock, pulling hard at it until Sam screamed in bliss. When Seth ceased his ministrations, Sam actually whimpered in protest, his body aching to be fucked.

"I just knew you were a cockslut, Sam," Seth whispered, sliding his dick inside Sam in one fluid motion.

Sam's whole body shook as Seth slid in and out of his body, forcing Sam to look into his eyes the entire time. The small thrusts massaged him in just the right spot, the feeling making him gasp. His hands squeezed Seth's shoulders as the boy fucked into him, a tingling sensation swirling low in his belly with every in and out movement. His vision blurred when his rapist sped up the motion of his hips, a pleasure unlike anything he'd ever known taking hold of him as he came hard all over the boy's skin.

Seth roared in ecstasy when Sam's inner walls clenched tight around his cock, filling the boy's abused passage with his seed. When it was all over, he fell panting on top of the boy underneath him, laughing quietly at Sam's soft sobs.

"Hey," he whispered, running his fingers through Sam's floppy brown hair. "Stop being a pain in the ass. You fuckin' liked it. We'll make sure to do it someplace nicer next time, and when we do, you're not gonna pull any of this cryin' shit, you hear me?"

When Sam didn't answer, Seth's gentle touch turned violent. Slapping the boy across the cheek, Seth grabbed his chin and forced him to look at his face, his eyes hardening in anger at Sam's insolence.

"When I tell you something, you fucking do it. See, you're new here so you have no idea how things run in this town. I'm the fucking boss, Sam. Do you hear me? And what I want, I get. Right now, what I want is you. You're my whore. You're always gonna be my whore. I  _own_  you now, Sammy boy. You better start accepting that. Now get the hell out of my face."

* * *

Sam struggled through the pain coursing through his entire body as he made his way along the deserted streets of town, trying his hardest to remember where it was he lived. When Seth had kicked him out of his car, he'd tried escaping the beach. He'd really tried. But apparently the other boys there decided they wanted a turn with him too. He was bruised and bloodied and he just wanted to go home but he couldn't seem to remember where home was. The tears he'd been holding back for the sake of his sanity spilled traitorously down his purple cheeks, the pain that came with the realization that he was nothing more than used goods like a sharp knife to his bleeding heart. His virginity was gone, which meant he had no value. His parents didn't want him and Seth only seemed to want him for the whore he apparently was. He certainly felt like one. What kind of person enjoys being raped? Seth was right; he really was a cock slut.

Sam stopped in the middle of the road as his legs gave way underneath him, falling to the ground in agony. He began sobbing into the dirty concrete, the will to survive slowly fading. He heard a door opening somewhere in the distance, the strange sound of cursing getting louder and louder as the owner of the voice approached his battered body.

"Oh god," a woman said in horror. "Honey, you just hold on. I'm gonna get you some help. Dean! Get over here and help me with him! I don't think he can walk."

_Dean? Who the fuck is Dean?_

Before he knew what was happening, he felt someone pick him up off the ground and carry him to lord knows where, the feel of the stranger's hard muscles oddly comforting. The person smelled like leather, oil and cheap soap, an intoxicating mixture that had him inhaling the boy's scent before he could wonder why. Trying desperately to open his eyes, he moaned silently when he realized they weren't going to budge.

"Shh," the woman from before whispered. "Hush, baby. You're going to be just fine. Dean's got you."

"Dean?" he replied, his voice hoarse.

Sam groaned as he felt an overwhelming sleepiness come over him, the urge to drift off into the abyss too strong a desire for him to ignore. Giving in to the surrounding darkness, he was out before he could comprehend the strange sensation that had taken hold of him at the touch of the boy's strong arms, the comforting feeling he brought Sam following him into the bottomless pit known as sleep.

 


	3. Meet The Moseleys

Missouri Moseley was a woman on a mission. She was an independent, shrewd, fire-breathing termagant who wasn't about to let some hoity-toity man with a blue blazer and Louis Vitton sunglasses get in the way of the one thing she knew she deserved, especially after the night she'd just had.

The boy who'd been rescued had kept her up the entire night. She'd stayed with him the whole time, hushing him back to sleep whenever he woke up delirious and panicked. His frightened screams had filled the bedroom in a resounding wave of vibrating sound, piercing her ears and breaking her heart with its brutal intensity. At one point, when she'd finally fallen asleep, the poor child had somehow managed to make his way into the kitchen where he grabbed a knife and attempted to slit his wrists, almost succeeding before the utensil was ripped from his quivering hands by her beautiful boy, Dean.

God, how she loved that kid. The boy's wails had kept Dean awake as well, which was a good thing for both Missouri and the young man because there was no way she would have gotten there in time to stop him from killing himself. She woke up at the sound of yelling and, when she realized the child wasn't beside her, ran downstairs to find her son hoisting the loud boy over his shoulder and walking past her to plop him down on his bed. He'd told her to go to sleep while he watched over the poor thing, ignoring her protests about him having to go to school in the morning. That's the thing with Dean; when he's made his mind up about something, there's no changing it. The boy's as strong and stubborn as an ox. Unfortunately for her, she wasn't able to sleep after that.

So, fast forward five hours and here she is now, rushing past the asshole who had the nerve to venture down into her part of the supermarket to obtain the last jelly filled donut resting peacefully inside its glass enclosure. As they reached their destination, Missouri backhanded him without thinking about the consequences, kicking him in the rear when the powerful smack turned his whole body over to the other side. He fell to the floor and looked up at her in an odd combination of anger and fear, lifting his upper lip in disgust when she brought the powdered pastry to her red lips.

"What now, bitch?" she exclaimed, mouth full of food. "Neva mess with a black woman and her food, motherfucker."

Missouri's head snapped up at the many stares she was getting from other customers, their expressions giving her time to fully appreciate what it was she'd just done. Widening her eyes in surprise, she watched as security made their way toward her with as much professionalism as they could muster, arresting her for assault when the dumbass she'd slapped decided he wanted to press charges.

_Just look at it this way, Missouri,_  she thought to herself.  _At least you got the last donut._

* * *

Sparks of white light burst beneath Sam's eyelids as he sat up in bed, the pain from his rectum spreading through his entire body. A sense of dread came over him as he took in his unfamiliar surroundings, the fear he'd felt from last night attacking him with harsh pants and a rapid heartbeat. He couldn't remember most of what happened to him after the incident at the beach, though he faintly recalled a comfortable smell invading his nostrils sometime after his assault. It's funny…he'd been gang raped for an entire hour by Seth's cronies and yet the only thing that occupied his mind was that jaw dropping aroma. He didn't know why the retrieval of that memory meant so much to him, but he still found himself closing his eyes in concentration, trying to bring back the smell that had managed to calm the raging sea wreaking havoc on his very being. Unable to capture the scent in his mind's eye, he fell to the bed in frustration, putting a hand over his face as the action caused more pain to travel through his abused opening.

He wished there was a way for him to remember exactly what happened to him between the time he walked off the beach and the time he got to where he was now. Everything in between was fuzzy, little bits and pieces coming together to form a mass of muffled sounds and blurry visions that were more than a little unrecognizable. The puzzle wasn't fitting together and he couldn't figure out why. He eventually chalked it all up to trauma and closed his eyes in an attempt to sleep this whole thing away, hoping against hope that a trip to dreamland would trigger something about last night that would help him make sense of the situation in which he currently found himself. But before he could drift off into unconsciousness, the sound of a door slamming had him jerking in surprise. Thinking that someone was coming to hurt him, he scrambled to get himself untangled from the cotton sheets he was enveloped in, only to scream in pain as he fell face first on the hardwood floor. Footsteps rushed in his direction as if the person walking was in a panic, the clicking of high heels reverberating loudly off the bedroom walls. Realizing it was a woman, he froze in place as she made her way towards him in a frenzy, dropping to her knees beside him.

"Oh, you poor boy! Here, let big mama help you up."

Missouri managed to get Sam back into bed before she heard the flying of gravel as Dean disappeared down the street, heading back to school in his beloved Chevy Impala.

"Who was that?" Sam whispered.

"Oh, don't you worry. That was just my son. You'll meet him later on. So…it's nice to finally meet you, honey. I'm Missouri, and you are…?"

Sam hesitated for a moment, then replied, "Sam."

Missouri smiled the sweetest smile Sam had ever seen, her brown eyes crinkling with the force of it. She was a pretty woman, with black hair and a full figure that he'd always appreciated a hell of a lot more than society's coveted skinny minny. She bit at her lip unconsciously as they both allowed a comfortable silence to pass between them, each mentally sizing up the other. When the woman finally spoke, the smile she'd had on her face was gone, the worry replacing it an unwelcome sight to Sam's eyes.

"Hon…I have to ask you something. Do…do you remember last night?"

"No."

"You were a wild one, young man. May I ask what happened to you?"

Sam closed his eyes beneath the onslaught of questions he wasn't quite ready to answer, psychological pain sending sparks of agony through his entire body. He knew he'd have to talk about it eventually, but the very morning after it happened was just too short a time frame for him. The abuse was still fresh in his mind, like taking stitches out of a gash that hadn't been properly healed yet. The rape he'd been subjected to had stripped away his self-respect, any preconceived notions he'd had about saving himself for the person he loved ripped from him by someone he should have known better than to trust. How could he tell Missouri about the events that put him to shame when just thinking about them made him want to crawl under the blankets and stay there until he died? If what happened was enough to get him to want to kill himself, what would it mean for her? Would she be just as ashamed of him as he was of himself? He couldn't risk having someone so kind see what a dirty, soiled boy he really was. If she knew, she'd send him away. He couldn't have that, not when the only person in this town that he had to lean on was probably miles away.

Deciding to give her a version of the truth, he said, "I was attacked by a couple of guys."

"Was it a fight?"

"Yes."

Missouri's eyes narrowed suspiciously as she tried to get a look inside the boy's head, his lies as obvious to her as the pain on his face. Penetrating the walls of his consciousness, a scene of brutality played before her like a horror movie, each scene making it more and more difficult for her to breathe.

" _Stop it!" Sam screamed, his body shaking with the force of the stranger's thrusts._

_Sam was being held down by two guys, the third pounding into him at an erratic pace, his expression of pleasure deepening the closer he got to his inevitable orgasm._

" _You feel so good wrapped around my cock, pretty boy," he groaned, crying out as he came deep inside the opening he was currently buried in. "Fuuuck! He feels so damn goood."_

_The laughter from the others pierced the night air as the boy finished raping Sam, leaning down to lick at his victim's tears in a mockery of sympathy._

" _You're next, Roger. This one here is a fighter but don't you worry, his struggling makes it better. He squeezes around your dick, see? It's so damn good. Hurry up. We don't have much time left. I want to get back home before my parents have a cow, man."_

_The young man known as Roger took his place between Sam's spread legs, using the come from the other boy to slick the way as he pushed past the tight ring of muscle, eyes rolling back in his head at the powerful feeling. His hips started moving slowly, his gaze focused on Sam's tear-stained face._

" _You can't tell me you don't like this, slut," he panted._

" _Please, leave me alone," Sam sobbed, crying so hard his vision was starting to blur._

" _Aww. Ya hear that, fellas? Poor guy here wants us to leave him alone. I say we shut his mouth up. Seth?! Get over here and put your dick in there. Little shit should be having his mouth and ass fucked at the same time."_

_Seth laughed as he unzipped his jeans and pulled out his cock, rubbing the head against Sam's lips._

" _You bite this and I'll fucking kill you," he said, shoving himself in and out of the wet cavern hard enough to swell Sam's cheeks with every thrust inside._

_The boy inside of Sam switched angles and smirked triumphantly as he hit the bundle of nerves deep within Sam's aching body, making the boy cry out around Seth's dick as he came hard all over himself. The others hooted and hollered at the huge victory awarded to them, a victory made even more sweet when their victim's walls clenched tight around the member inside of him. Roger screamed as his climax hit him like a ton of bricks, pulling out so that he could shoot his load all over Sam's belly._

_Sam sputtered when he tasted Seth's release, vomiting all over the sand when the boys finally let him go. Positioning himself on his hands and knees, he emptied the contents of his stomach in an attempt to expel whatever filth was forced down his throat. Coughing hard enough to make his ribs ache, he found the strength to stand on his wobbly legs, wincing at the words being hollered at him as he made his way off the beach._

" _Thanks for the fuck, Singer!"_

" _See you around, cock whore!"_

" _You'd better be ready on Monday, Sam," Seth yelled. "'cause I'm comin' after you! Don't ever forget who that ass belongs to!"_

_Their taunts echoed in Sam's mind as tears streamed down his handsome face, stumbling over himself as he tried to remember which way Seth had driven to get to where he was. His fuzzy brain made no attempt to help him, instead confusing him further as the memories jumbled up in a twisted game of Torture the Sammy, mocking him for his inability to put the pieces of the puzzle together. Giving up, he began to walk in whichever direction he chose to go in, the blur of headlights passing him by as he started to fade into darkness, the world spiraling out of control beneath the weight of his sorrow. He moved without knowing what he was doing, the earth still spinning faster and faster while he remained a slave to the power of fate, powerless to stop its continued existence._

"M-Missouri?"

The psychic snapped out of her trance in a daze, feeling her energy drain from the strength it took to see inside Sam's mind. The poor boy looked worriedly at her, clueless as to the dark turn her thoughts had taken. It was a good thing that she'd seen the faces of the boys who did this to him, because she planned on making them all pay. There wasn't going to be a single thing they'd done that wouldn't go unpunished, she'd make sure of that. Now all she had to do was get Dean on board…

"I'm fine, honey. I've just had a long morning. I got arrested today. Had to call my son from school to come bail me out. Bless his little soul for being the boy that he is. But enough of that. I-"

"What did you get arrested for?" Sam interrupted.

"Oh, I attacked some guy over a jelly donut. No big deal."

Sam's eyes widened in shock. "Who the hell would get into a fight with someone over something so trivial?"

"A fat person with a penchant for donuts, that's who. Now you hush before I beat you senseless. You best mind your manners in my house, boy. Here's the deal; you agree with everything I say, and I'll order us some pizza for supper. How's that sound?"

Sam smiled, some of the tension from earlier fading in light of his recent luck. How he'd managed to find such a wonderful person after the hell he'd been through was nothing short of a miracle, and he'd be damned if he was going to do anything to upset the bond he could feel forming between him and Missouri. Reaching his hand out, he waited for her to put her own into it before he responded, the compassion in her kind eyes giving him the strength he needed to trust the endearing stranger.

"Deal."

* * *

It was nearly seven at night by the time Sam had finally worked up the courage to call his father, spending damn near three hours on the phone listening to him get yelled at for making him worry the way he did. Sam's story about getting into a physical altercation with some boys didn't fool his dad one bit. He knew this, yet he continued to stick to the fabrication he'd created, refusing to let Bobby know the truth, lest he get arrested for murder. When asked about Seth, Sam played it cool, trying his best to keep up the fake façade he knew Bobby probably wouldn't be swayed by.

Finally managing to calm the raging storm that was Bobby Singer, Sam assured him that he'd be home as soon as it was humanly possible before hanging up and taking another slice of his pepperoni and mushroom pizza, groaning in satisfaction at the taste.

The sound of the door slamming shut made Sam jump in surprise, forgetting for a moment that Missouri kept mentioning something about having a son named Dean. Boots from the boy's shoes stomped across the floors in a heavy thump, the footsteps retreating to what sounded like the room Sam had woken up in. Deciding to meet the young man and perhaps make a little polite conversation, Sam got up off the living room floor and made his way to the bedroom, stopping at the closed door that blocked his view of who he could only guess was the person who'd lifted him from the dirty pavement and carried him inside from the cold.

Allowing his curiosity to get the better of him, he reached a hand out and pushed open the door before he could stop himself, watching the wood creak as it carefully slid to the other side of the doorway. The boy's back was turned away from him, his head down as he did something Sam couldn't see. Deciding to speak up, he cleared his throat and watched as the boy visibly stiffened, lifting his head as he slowly turned around to face Sam.

Sam's breath caught in his throat as he found himself drowning in the most beautiful eyes he'd ever seen, the flecks of gold peppering the emerald colored irises blending in with the ocean of green assaulting Sam's vision. The boy's full lips shifted downwards into a frown as his brows furrowed in anger, the sight of it bringing Sam back to the looks of disgust he'd seen on the faces of the boys who'd violated him.

"The fuck do you think you're doing?" Dean growled, his deep voice sending a shiver down Sam's back.

"I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to just barge in on you but I thought that maybe I could-"

Dean was up in Sam's face before he could finish his sentence, the smell of him cutting off the words the boy had been trying to form. The intoxicating scent of Missouri's son was driving him crazy, the aroma he'd been trying to place earlier coming back to him in full force. He felt his cock stiffen in his jeans as Dean glared spitefully at him, the dominance oozing from his every pore doing things to Sam he'd never thought possible.

"Dean! You best hold your tongue in my house, boy!"

Sam turned as Missouri approached the two boys, her disapproving glare focused entirely on Dean. "The hell is it with you, boy? Can't you say hi to the nice kid? Show some hospitality. I know I raised you better than this, Dean Moseley."

The anger on Dean's face disappeared as he blew out a breath in annoyance, turning around and slamming the door shut behind him. Missouri shook her head and let out a resigned sigh, looking apologetically at Sam.

"You'll have to excuse my son, Sam. He hasn't had the best life in the world, and that boy's trust issues are…you don't even wanna know. You should get use to him eventually. I mean, after all…he  _does_  go to school with you."

Sam's face contorted in confusion. "Wait, what?"

"Well…you do go to school here, right? You're a young boy so I just figured…anyway, everyone in that place is scared of Dean so if there are boys giving you trouble, your best bet is to make friends with him as soon as possible. That boy'll be your lifeline, trust me. Nobody in their right mind would _dare_ mess with my son."

Sam looked back at the closed door as he tried to picture having a grumpy guy like Dean as his guard dog. For some odd reason, he felt a strange connection to the Moseley boy that he couldn't quite rationalize or explain. That alone scared the living shit out of him as the last thing he needed was to feel something for a boy that closely resembled what he felt for Seth when he'd first seen him. He knew Dean would never hurt him like that, but the thought that he could be raped one minute and be hot for someone he barely knew more than a few minutes the next had him rushing to the bathroom as fast as his weak legs could carry him, emptying his stomach into the toilet in disgust. Missouri was at his side in a flash, rubbing his back in soothing, concentrated circles as she softly shushed him into silence.

"Hush, baby. It's okay. You're going to be okay, hon. I'm here now. Everything's alright."

Sam sobbed into the toilet bowl as shame washed all over him for the connection he felt when he'd first seen Dean's face, the words of the boys who'd raped him coming back to haunt his brain as harsh taunts echoed in cruel memories.

" _You're such a cock slut, Sammy. Don't you ever forget it."_

They were right. He was a filthy boy, climaxing when being raped and then getting hard at the sight of someone he didn't even know. He was mortified at his body's reactions to everything that's been happening to him. A guilt unlike anything he'd ever known was slowly beginning to ravage him from the inside out, self-loathing breaking down his defenses little by little as he started descending into the depths of his own madness. He felt like he was never going to get out of the hell those boys had put him in, each painful memory holding their own power over him that he couldn't seem to control, no matter how hard he tried.

Missouri's voice pierced through the self-deprecating thoughts floating around inside Sam's brain, the warmth of her hand creating a ripple effect of calm within the waters of his despair.

"Listen to me, child. You are going to get through this, ya hear? I'm going to help you. Look at me."

Missouri took his face in both of her hands, giving him a little shake to emphasize her point. "You are not gonna give up Sam. I won't let you. There's a whole other world out there that you still need to see. One that doesn't involve violence. I swear to you that none of this is your fault and I promise you that those boys are  _never_  going to hurt you again."

Sam buried his head in the woman's shoulder and cried openly as she wrapped her arms around his shaking body, holding the sad boy tight to her breast. A creak in the floor had her glancing up and locking eyes with her son, his look of worry for the boy he'd yelled at just moments earlier fading as soon as he realized his mother had caught wind of his presence. Schooling his features into the mask he always wore for other people, he walked past the bathroom and disappeared out the front door, the sound of his Impala zooming to life as he sped out of the driveway at a speed Missouri was going to kill him for later.

Sam drifted off in Missouri's arms, his soft snores making the woman smile as she lifted him up in her arms and carried him to Dean's bed, knowing full well that the rebellious boy would probably be out most of the night. She tucked Sam into the covers and ran her fingers through his floppy brown hair, smiling affectionately at the boy who'd managed to capture her heart in the span of two nights. She knew he had a long road ahead of him, but she also knew that he was a survivor, just like Dean. Those two boys were going to need each other eventually, she could sense it. The strong bond that they had already formed might have been lost to the teenagers, but Missouri relied on her powers of intuition, and those powers did not lie. Sam and Dean were soul mates, and the pull between them was only going to get stronger as time went on. That thought alone made the woman smile in triumph, joy coursing through her at the idea that such a sweet boy like Sam could be a part of Dean's life. But beyond the happiness was fear, fear for the evil she knew surrounded the boys like a plague, its very existence threatening the peaceful tranquility of their strong connection.

Ignoring the negative thoughts that had suddenly taken hold of her, Missouri made her way into the living room and picked up the phone, punching out a number as she stared fondly at an old picture of Dean when he was twelve, his folded arms letting the photographer know just how unhappy he was about having his picture taken.

"Yeah?"

"It's Missouri. I've found him. He's been hurt pretty bad. I think you outta come down here and keep an eye on him. I have a feeling that you know who is somewhere close by and I don't want to chance anything bad happening to the poor boy."

She listened to the mischievous voice on the other end convey dirty thoughts to the girls at his side before once again acknowledging Missouri, assuring her he'd find a way to keep tabs on Samuel without anybody knowing about it, least of all the man they were all trying to protect the kid from. When she hung up, she felt as if a huge burden had been lifted off her shoulders. He was never going to win, not when she had both of his boys safe from harm. She wasn't going to let the prophecy come to pass; she'd rather die.

Walking to her bedroom in silence, she fell upon her bed with a sigh, staring up at the ceiling as she thought of what her next move was going to be. She figured out the answer before she'd even asked the question, the faces of Sam and Dean taking center stage in her mind's eye. As she fell into a deep sleep, she was unaware of the yellow eyes peering at her from within the contents of a blood filled chalice, a smirk creeping across the lips of Azazel as he giggled softly into the crimson waters.

"I've got you now, bitch," he murmured. "Sam and Dean Winchester are  _mine_."


	4. Trapped

Sam woke up the next morning feeling the same way he did the night before: depressed, angry, confused, and completely exhausted. There was, however, one very significant detail missing from the many emotions circling around in his overloaded brain; he didn't feel suicidal. Any thoughts about ending the life he didn't see as exceptionally valuable had all but faded away under the compassionate care of Missouri Moseley. She was a woman of fierce loyalty and abounding love, a feisty mother hen with a penchant for both empathetic understanding and unmerciful punishment. She could be your best friend or your worst enemy, though the latter was usually reserved for people who took it upon themselves to harm someone she cared about. She was a stern disciplinarian capable of capturing the obedience of anyone under her wing, a firecracker of a woman who stole Sam's heart from his chest in a matter of 24 hours and suspended it above his head as if to show him that he still had the capacity to love, the action leaving him wholeheartedly under her powerful spell.

Sam and Missouri were finishing up breakfast dishes when the front door opened to reveal a very somber Dean, his beautiful eyes immediately locking on Sam's as he made his way into the kitchen. Pushing past the shy boy, he opened the orange juice on the counter and drank straight from the carton, using the back of his hand to wipe the orange liquid from his full lips. Sam watched in avid fascination as he shucked his leather jacket and threw it over a chair before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a pack of Salem 100's, smirking defiantly at his mother as he lit up a cigarette right in the middle of the room.

"So," Missouri began, her expression murderous. "Where did you go last night, Dean?"

"Nowhere," he responded.

"Oh, cut the bullshit! I can smell perfume all over you! Did you at least have the presence of mind to use a condom? Or am I gonna have to whoop your ass?"

Dean and Missouri stared each other down for five full minutes without saying a word, leaving Sam behind to bask in the awkward silence their battle of wills had created. The show for dominance was a losing battle for Missouri; Sam could see it written all over both their faces. Missouri may have been a tough woman, but Sam had a strange feeling that when Dean was in whatever mood he was in now, there was no reasoning with him.

"Hey!" Sam spoke up. "Why don't we all watch a movie or something? I'm sure it'll be a hell of a lot more fun than fighting."

Both heads turned in his direction, the corners of Missouri's lips curving upwards into a tiny smile. Dean scowled at Sam as he practically shoved him into the kitchen table on the way to his bedroom, the sound of the door slamming shut something Sam was starting to get more than used to.

"Does he always slam that door?"

Missouri sighed. "I'm sorry, Sam. Sometimes not even I can control him. Dean has…a wildness about him. He has a free spirit that I can't contain, nor would I ever want to. I just wish that he'd confide in me more than he does. There's something bothering him but I can never figure out what it is because he never tells me. I could look inside his mind but I don't want to intrude on his privacy. Looks like I might not have a choice though, huh?"

Sam looked puzzlingly at her. "Look into his mind?"

Oh…I suppose I should have told you. I'm a bit of a psychic. Now I know that you'll probably think I'm crazy, but-"

"No!" Sam interrupted. "I believe in psychics! As a matter of fact, I sometimes believe I'm psychic. I can see things before they happen. They come with awful headaches though, and I can't ever be sure of when they appear. The last time I had anything like that happen to me was last year. I remember 'cause Bobby freaked out and wanted to send me to the hospital because of the pain."

Missouri looked at Sam with a curiosity he wasn't sure he liked, the weight of her gaze making him uncomfortable. "You get visions, huh? Infrequent visions…"

Sam watched Missouri slip into a trance of sorts, obviously thinking of something he wasn't meant to be privy to. Her pupils dilated as she looked deep into his hazel eyes, something within its murky depths caving beneath her forceful scrutiny.

"Well," she spoke suddenly, shaking her head and clearing her throat. "If you're anything like me then it'll take some time for your powers to manifest. If you need any help channeling something specific, let me know and I'll see what I can do to help you."

"Yeah, sure…okay."

"I'm going to take a nap, Sam. I'm awfully tired. Do me a favor and see whether or not you can get Dean to go to the store and pick up the items I have here on my list. If he doesn't agree then don't fret, he'll go later when he's calmed down. I swear, that boy is gonna be the death of me."

Sam smiled sadly as Missouri left him alone to reflect on his thoughts, the idea of talking to Dean sending a shiver down his back. How such a good-looking boy could be so stubborn and mean, Sam would never know. But for the sake of his new friend, he was going to get that oaf to do his mother this tiny favor…whether he liked it or not.

Determined to display whatever intimidation necessary to get what he wanted, Sam puffed out his chest and put on the best bitchface he could muster before stomping down the hallway to Dean's bedroom, banging his knuckles against the wood repeatedly. He nearly leapt out of his skin when the door burst open and he was pulled inside by the front of his shirt, his brain short-circuiting on him as he was once again transported back to that night with Seth and his friends. His heartbeat pounded loudly in his ears as his breathing began to quicken, his vision going blurry with every second that passed by in the tiny room.

"Hey!" Dean yelled sternly, slapping him across the face. "Snap out of it!"

Sam stared at Dean in horror. "Why'd you hit me?"

Dean froze, his face scrunching up in a combination of contempt and confusion. It seemed as though he couldn't decide which feeling he wanted to express, the emotions that must have bubbled up inside him obviously too much information for him to process all at once. He seemed to have made up his mind when he shrugged his shoulders and put on the most disgusted expression he could accomplish on such short notice, the action making Sam smirk in amusement.

"You were acting like a fuckin' spaz," he replied rudely. "The hell is wrong with you?"

"Uh…well, I…I got hurt. These guys, you see, they-"

"That's a nice story," Dean interrupted. "Really, it is. Now, why don't you be a good little boy and get the hell out of my room. I've got more important things to do then hang around with you."

"Like what? Be an ungrateful son to your mother?"

Sam's eyes widened as a gasp escaped his mouth, the look of pure rage on Dean's face making him realize that he'd gone too far. Dean was up in Sam's face before he had a chance to react, slamming him up against the door with one fist aiming in his direction. The older boy breathed heavily through his nose, his fingers clenched so tight that his knuckles turned a bright shade of white. Sam turned his head and clenched his eyes shut, trying to prepare himself for the blow that he knew was coming. He would have deserved it too. He had no right to speak that way to Dean and he certainly had no place back talking someone in their own house. By being disrespectful to the boy, Sam had signed his death warrant _._

_Now, if only Dean would hurry up and get it done and over with already…_

But he didn't. He just stood there in the exact same position for the longest time, whether he was working up the courage to dole out his punishment or trying to talk himself out of it, Sam wasn't sure. When the boy finally let go of Sam's shirt and lowered his raised fist, Sam stared up at him in confusion, trying his best to comprehend how it was possible that he hadn't turned into a pile of dust atop Dean's bedroom floor yet. The anger was still evident on Dean's features, but more than that; Sam saw regret. Regret because what Sam had said was true. Dean seemed to really love his mother, and Sam had no doubt in his mind that Missouri loved him just as much, if not more.

"What do you want from me?" he whispered ominously.

"I just want you to go to the store and get your mother a couple of things on her list. I need to get home today so you can drop me off on the way. I know that I should probably tell her I'm leaving, but I'm not really good at goodbyes. Besides, if she really wants to see me again, she'll know where I live."

Dean considered Sam's offer, the suspicious glare making Sam roll his eyes. If Dean was going to be difficult about this then there was really no point in arguing with him, now was there?

"Never mind," Sam huffed, turning to open the door. "I'll do it myself."

Sam flinched as he saw Dean's hand slam the door shut in his face. Turning back around, he stiffened as he found himself inches away from the older boy's mouth, his full lips sending waves of desire crashing through Sam's body.

"Don't," Dean growled. "Don't you dare fucking move. What? You think I'm going to let you go and take all the glory? She's  _my_  mother, and I'll be damned if I'm going to let a snot nosed little brat like you take her away from me. Do you understand what I'm saying?-Dean leaned forward and stared Sam straight in the eye- She…belongs…to  _me_."

The possessiveness dripping from every word Dean spoke had Sam's breaths speeding up beyond what was considered normal for someone who was supposed to have everything under control. He couldn't help but wonder if Dean was like that with everything that he considered his. Pushing that unwelcome thought to the deepest recesses of his brain, Sam nodded in understanding, a tinge of fear twisting his gut.

"Yeah, sure. C-can you take me home now?"

Dean's eyes stayed on Sam for a brief moment before turning to grab his car keys, the sense that he was being blocked out too great for Sam to ignore.

"Get your whiny little ass out of my room and follow me."

* * *

The next couple of days passed by in a total blur. Sam may have been able to calm his father and stop him from finding out the identities of the boys that "jumped" his son, but the storm brewing deep within his soul was still raging on with a wild abandon, each day that came and went bringing with them depression so acute, it was a wonder Sam made it to Monday without ending his pain and misery with the blade of his knife. How he'd managed to talk his dad into letting him go to school was a miracle, yet not so much a miracle as was the fact that Sam had the courage to go in the first place.

School was uneventful for the most part, with the exception of Sam looking over his shoulder every two seconds for the faces of his tormenters to appear. For some reason, he didn't see them anywhere, which was just fine as far as he was concerned. The last thing he needed was to look upon the faces of his rapists before he'd even had a chance to fully heal from the damage they'd caused to both his mind and his body. At the end of the day, when the last school bell rang, he breathed a sigh of relief, happy that he wouldn't have to face anything he wasn't ready to handle.

Walking home from school with a newfound pep in his step, he smiled as he found himself whistling in contentment, looking up at the blue sky with a brand new set of eyes. He felt as if he'd transcended past the realm of his physical reality and transported his soul to somewhere deep within the heavens, the high he got from the blanket of turquoise that covered the earth overwhelming. It was like everything was seen through a magnifying glass, the beauty of the world amplified ten times over, screaming for Sam to take notice of its radiance.

Sam was so caught up in his own happiness that he didn't catch sight of the figures approaching him until they were right in front of him, their smirking faces making Sam gasp in horror.

"Well, well, well," Seth chuckled wickedly, eyeing Sam up and down. "What do we have here, boys? I think our day is finally starting to improve."

 


	5. An Unlikely Ally

Red _and yellow flames spread across wood and fabric in a fiery battle for domination as hurried footsteps danced around the raging inferno ravaging the house of Mary and John Winchester, untied shoelaces creating a flapping sound that was drowned out by the burning foundations of the building surrounding a four-year-old Dean. He raced to the front door with the precious bundle in his arms screaming into the cruel night, wails of sorrow piercing his brother's heart. Stumbling in his haste to escape from danger, Dean tightened his firm hold on little Sammy as he toppled to the ground, his head turning toward the right and freezing at the sight befalling him._

_There, by the blackened recliner that reached just inside the living room, was an amber glow located inside hollow eye sockets. The owner stared ominously from his place across the room, the light of the fire illuminating his black jacket and pale skin. His face was covered by the collar of his coat, the flaps pulled up to protect anonymity. Dean gasped as a whisper traveled across the room with the languid ease of a serpent's body slithering in motion, reaching deep inside his ears to taunt him with his own name._

" _Dean," it hissed, chuckling softly. "Come to me."_

_Dean ignored the irresistible urge to obey the command and ran out of the house as fast as his little legs could carry him. The world around him faded into darkness, the many colors of the neighborhood morphing into a sea of multilayered strokes. Each shade of gray merged into the blacks and greens of the sky and trees, afflicting the little boy's eyes with a confused blindness which rendered him incapable of seeing anything apart from the disabling coloration assaulting his vision. Panic seized him as he tried in vain to regain some semblance of sanity, the words spoken to him from afar reverberating off the walls of his mind in a symphony of protracted S's and hoarse whispers, the sound of the man's voice coming closer and closer until he felt hot breath burning into his sensitive skin. He whirled around and screamed, the presence of his parents barely recognizable beneath the charred flesh sizzling off their bones._

" _You can't have him!" Dean screamed. "I won't let you have my brother! Go away! Go away!"_

_Darkness enveloped Dean in a blanket of oppressive opaqueness as the baby was ripped from his arms and given to the man from inside the house, his blood dripping into the child's mouth the last thing Dean saw before spiraling down the hole of an unfamiliar abyss, his screams fading in the background as death washed over his broken form…_

Dean gasped as he sat straight up in bed, sweat causing his bare chest to gleam in the sunlight peeking through the curtains of his bedroom window. His eyes immediately focused on the woman standing in the doorway, her worried expression coming closer as she walked slowly toward the confused boy.

"Dean? You okay, baby?"

"I'm fine," he mumbled tiredly, rubbing roughly at his eyes.

"You had that dream again, didn't you? The one about your brother?"

"Doesn't matter."

Missouri tried reaching a hand out to run through the short strands of her son's hair when he grabbed her wrist, holding it in place. They both stared at each other in silence, the tension in the room mounting with every second that ticked by.

"Dean…you don't have to do this. Don't shut me out. I want to help you."

"You want to help me?" Dean laughed. "Alright. You can start by keeping your hands to yourself. I don't need your pity, mother."

"It's not-"

"I don't have time for this right now." he interrupted, getting up and putting on a black t-shirt he had lying around his bedroom floor. "I have to get ready for school."

"It's damn near three in the afternoon, Dean. You slept all day long."

Dean sighed in annoyance, pushing past his mother to grab his car keys. "I'm going out. I'll be back later."

"I love-"

The slam of the front door cut off Missouri's words, the absence of her son's presence leaving a dull ache in her chest. She hated how her sensitive boy acted so cruel and callous around other people. His heart was guarded by the walls he'd built around himself, the strength of them preventing anyone access to the very parts of him that were vulnerable. By shutting everyone out, he was protecting himself. Unfortunately, while his method of self-preservation kept the bad people out, it also kept the good people from coming in. Missouri knew Dean loved her, his actions last night proved it. She just wished he'd show it every once in a while.

Missouri smiled to herself as a memory of the previous night replayed in her head of Dean coming in her bedroom when he thought she was sleeping, his even breaths the only thing keeping her from running to his side and asking what was wrong. She'd kept her eyes closed to make him believe she was unconscious, hoping against hope that he wouldn't catch on to her ruse. He slowly walked toward the bed where she lay and grabbed the sheets that bunched around her feet, covering her body until she was warm and cozy. Just when she thought he'd leave, she felt him lean down and place a tentative kiss to her forehead, his whispered 'I love you' making tears burn beneath her eyelids. She waited until he left the bedroom to cry quietly into her pillow, empathy for her son spreading through her like a plague. She cried for the life he'd led up until this point, everything he'd ever been through making her feel as if it was her fault for not keeping him safe the way she was supposed to. She cried for the love Dean still had inside his heart despite everything that's happened to him, the knowledge that nothing could take away his feelings for her too much to bear. She cried for all those things, but most of all? She cried for the person her son had become: hollow, skittish...a shell of his former self. He'd stopped trusting people a long time ago, blocking everyone out so that nobody could ever hurt him again. He was lonely, rebellious and the self-loathing he exhibited followed him around wherever he went, that little devil on his shoulder never-ceasing to whisper words of discouragement in his abused ears. She could sometimes hear his thoughts when he let his guard down long enough for her to get inside his head, the things she found in there like a knife to her heart.

 _You're worthless_.

_You're never going to amount to anything. Why do you think you couldn't save your parents or hold on to your brother? Why do you think you couldn't help your other father when he needed you most? Why do you think all those children in school hated you? It's because you're nothing, Dean. All you do is cause trouble. I'll bet your birth parents started the fire on purpose, just so they wouldn't have to put up with you anymore. Can't say I'd blame them. Would you?_

_You're such an asshole to your mother. She hates you. Thinks you're slime, just like those men that kidnapped and raped you. You deserved it, you disgusting little shit. You deserved everything that's ever happened to you and one of these days, your mother is going to leave you. Everybody leaves you, Dean…everybody._

The telephone brought Missouri out of her memories, the ringing doing nothing to improve the headache thinking about what went on inside Dean's mind had caused her. As she reached for the phone, a vision ripped through her head like wildfire, the intensity causing her to fall to the ground in pain. An image of Sam and those boys played before her eyes like a movie, what they were about to do to him making her blood run cold. Forcing herself onto her haunches, she grabbed at the phone and put it up to her ear.

"Yes?" she panted.

"Hey there, girlie! I just thought you'd like to be the first to know that yours truly is officially going to be teaching-"

"Thank god you called!" Missouri interrupted. "I just had a vision. Something is going to happen to Sam. Those boys are going to hurt him again. You need to stop it."

The voice on the other line huffed in annoyance. "Did you really need to interrupt to tell me that? I was talking in case you hadn't noticed."

"Damn you! Didn't you listen to a goddamn word I just said? Sam is in danger!"

"You really are adorable when you're angry," the voice laughed. "I wonder what your reaction would be if I made you relive this day over and over again."

"Gabriel, I am two seconds away from whooping your ass!"

"You don't have to worry about Sam, Missouri. He's in good hands."

Missouri stared incredulously at the phone. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Easy," Gabriel responded, smirking flirtatiously at a pair of girls that walked by his living room window. "Big brother's here."

* * *

Dean gripped the steering wheel as hard as he could, the force of it turning his knuckles white. He felt as if he was breaching the edge of insanity, ready to fall over at any second. The anger welled up inside of him needed an outlet, and a bar was just the place for that. He'd go there, flash one of his fake ids his mother didn't know anything about, and then he could cheat dumb bastards out of their money and kick their ass when they were stupid enough to pick a fight with him. He knew it was childish, but he didn't really give two shits as long as he could beat on something that wasn't his own ego.

As he turned a corner onto the street that usually led up to his school, he frowned as he caught a glimpse of that Sam kid walking down the sidewalk with his book bag firmly secured on his wide shoulders, smiling up at the sky like the little dweeb he was. His upper lip lifted in contempt at the boy who seemed to have captured his mother's heart, jealousy pouring off of him in waves at the thought of someone else being the center of Missouri's world. He knew that he didn't show his mother how much he loved her, but he didn't have to. It wasn't like she didn't already know. Besides, she's already got a son. She doesn't need another one…right?

Just as he was about to speed past Sam and his disgustingly cheerful attitude, he felt a growl rip through his throat as Seth and those horrible friends of his surrounded Sam. He felt a strange surge of protectiveness seep into his veins when they grabbed the boy and forced him down to the ground, heat building up inside his skin at the sight of someone hurting Sam. What the hell did he care about what happened to that kid? Where was this urge to kill and protect coming from?

He watched as Seth pulled down Sam's pants and forcibly spread his legs, what they were about to do hitting Dean like a ton of bricks. Watching them hurting Sam had him seeing red, the force of his anger making him jump out of the car and run to the bastards daring to lay a hand on his Sammy.

_My Sammy? What the hell is wrong with me?_

Not giving himself a chance to dwell on his thoughts, Dean practically teleported over to the scene, ignoring the screams of 'Shit, it's Moseley!' as he grabbed Seth by the hair and forced him to his feet.

"You think you're a big, tough guy, raping a fourteen year old boy? I'm gonna show you what happens to rapists in my neighborhood, motherfucker."

Grabbing Seth's legs and pulling them out underneath him, Dean watched as he toppled to the ground before shoving his boot in between the boy's legs. Seth howled in pain, the sound going unnoticed as Dean fell to his knees and began beating him senseless. The other boys fled, leaving Seth to face the wrath of Dean's fury. The energy pumping through his veins stopped noise from entering Dean's eardrums, losing himself completely in the moment as he took out all of his anger on the boy underneath him, not even noticing when he went limp from unconsciousness. It wasn't until Sam began to scream that Dean stopped ramming his fist into Seth's nose, a strange need to comfort the weeping boy scaring him senseless.

"Dean, stop! You're gonna kill him!"

Dean stood up and walked over to Sam, lifting him up in his arms and carrying him to the Impala. Ignoring the boy's protests, he threw him in the passenger side of the car before making his way to the driver's seat, slamming the door shut and glaring at the steering wheel in front of him.

Silence reigned upon the two boys as the air thickened between them, each one not willing to start a conversation that they knew would be awkward. When Dean cursed under his breath and started the car, Sam saw that as a chance to take Missouri's advice and ask her son for help.

"So, uh…I'm having trouble in school and I was wondering if…if um…you'd want to, like…I don't know…help protect me?"

Dean glanced at Sam, his hard expression softening under the onslaught of what he was going to call Sam's "puppy dog eyes." He mentally beat himself up for even considering helping the kid, not liking the idea of being someone's guard dog unless they were his own mother. What if he got attached to Dean and followed him around all the time? How the hell would he ever escape the little brat? More importantly, why on earth did he feel that overwhelming protectiveness when those boys tried hurting Sam? All of these questions kept running through his mind as he ignored Sam and drove them back to his place, hating himself for the connection he felt to the strange boy.

When they reached the house, Dean sighed as Missouri ran out and opened the passenger door, pulling Sam into a bear hug from which he couldn't escape. Dean watched the scene play itself out in silence, the fires of jealousy intensifying as he dwelled on the fact that it wasn't him his mother went to first.

"I'm so glad you're okay, Sam. I missed you so much, you little shit. Don't you ever scare me like that again or it's gonna be  _me_  you'll be running from."

Sam smiled through his tears, squeezing Missouri tighter. "Everything is gonna be okay. Dean saved me."

Missouri looked up at her son and flashed him a knowing smile, chuckling when Dean folded his arms like a child and put his head down. She watched as his cheeks flushed red with envy, his bottom lip puffing out into a pout that she thought was just about the cutest thing she'd ever seen.

"Yes, he sure can be an amazing boy…on occasion."

She laughed as Dean shot a glare her way before storming into the house, no doubt going to lock himself in his room for the rest of the day. How a grown ass boy could be such a child when it came to emotions, she had no idea. All she knew was that Sam was safe and that was more than she could have ever hoped for.

"I'm going to see Dean," Sam said. "I think I've got him right where I want him."

Missouri smiled sadly, nodding her acquiescence. "Go. But don't ever think you have Dean, because I can guarantee you that you don't. Remember what I said, Sam. He is a wild boy. It's gonna take a hell of a miracle to tame him."

"Don't worry," Sam said, smiling. "I've got what it takes."

* * *

"Why the hell can't you just leave me alone?" Dean yelled. "I saved your ass once, you hear me? Once. I'm not doin' it again. It's your fault for walking home alone in the first place. Don't your parents have a car?"

"Yes, Dean. My father has a car but he works so I have no choice but to walk home by myself. I wouldn't have to worry about that with you around though. C'mon. I won't bug you. Just take me to and from school and make sure they don't bother me in between classes. Why is that so hard for you?"

"Because you're not my problem!" Dean argued, pointing his hands at himself to make his point. "I am not your father. Looking out for you is not my job. Tell your dad to start taking care of his fucking kid so that he doesn't have to come around here and be a pain in my ass anymore."

Sam smiled. "If I'm such a pain in your ass then why did you help me? More importantly, why did you automatically bring me here to your house instead of asking me where I lived and taking me there?"

That brought Dean up short. "I…well…it doesn't matter! Go away and leave me alone. I've got better things to do than babysit you."

"Pwease?" Sam begged, puffing his bottom lip out and tilting his head to the side, staring at Dean from beneath his eyelashes.

Dean stared at him in disgust. "What the fuck, man? What the hell is it with those puppy dog eyes of yours? Why you gotta play me like that?"

He was completely serious; Sam knew that. But he still laughed so hard he fell to the floor in agony, the sight of Dean folding his arms and tapping his foot in annoyance making him laugh harder. When Dean decided he couldn't take it anymore, he plopped himself down on his bed and took out a revolver, pointing it at Sam.

"I'm going to count to three, and if you aren't out of my room by then, I'm going to shoot you in the fucking face."

Sam was out the door before Dean could wrap his tongue around one, running to Missouri's station wagon and telling her it was time for him to go home. When she got to the car, she leaned down and spoke to Sam through the window.

"What happened?"

Sam smiled as he buckled his seatbelt, staring fondly at the house.

"He's mine."


	6. Gabriel

Running water surged through the pipes of Missouri's two-story house on Wicker Ave, the groaning metal waking the woman from her peaceful slumber. Glancing at her clock, she sighed and got up from her bed to go check on Dean, curious as to what her son was doing up at five in the morning.

"Dean! What are you doing up so early, babe? It's only five."

Dean scrambled out of the shower naked as the day he was born, reaching for a towel while glaring daggers at the sudden intrusion on his privacy.

"Woman, don't you ever knock?"

"Don't you take that tone with me, young man. Everyone else may be scared of you, but I could take your ass down in a New York minute."

"Whatever," he mumbled.

Missouri watched as Dean brushed past her on the way to his bedroom, waiting until the door slammed shut to run as fast as she could toward the telephone in the kitchen. Dialing Sam's number, she waited patiently for the sleeping boy to pick up, a small smile forming on her face when she heard the sound of Sam's groggy voice on the other end of the line.

"Sam!" she hissed. "You need to get up. I can't be certain but….I think Dean is coming to get you."

"What?!" Sam exclaimed, suddenly wide awake.

"You did it, boy. I don't know how, but you did it."

"I told you he was mine," Sam smirked.

Missouri hung up on Sam when she heard Dean come into the kitchen to grab his wallet, the thud of his heavy boots the only sound in the otherwise silent house. He was dressed in a dark green jacket over faded blue jeans, the holes cut into the knees exposing the skin beneath the denim fabric. The black t-shirt he had on underneath was the same one he wore yesterday, the realization making Missouri shake her head in exasperation at her son's apparent lack of cleanliness when it came to his clothes.

"I'm leavin,' ma. I'll be back after school."

"That's just it, Dean…you don't have to be to school for a couple of hours. Why on earth are you leaving now?"

Dean looked at her as if she'd just grown a third leg. "What, are you kidding me? I've gotta go pick up the kid. I figure if I'm going to put up with his scrawny ass then he might as well put up with goin' with me to grab breakfast beforehand."

"You're going to pick Sam up? Not only that…but you're buying him breakfast?"

Dean wasn't sure he liked the knowing smirk on his mother's face. "Yeah, so what? What the fuck's the big deal? Just shut up and let me do what I have to do, will ya?"

Missouri waited until her son was at the front door before she called out to him, trying her best to keep her amusement in check.

"Sammy sure does have a hold on you, doesn't he, boy?"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Dean growled, keeping his back turned to her and his hand on the doorknob.

"Well, you never actually gave your consent to protecting the kid, now did you?" she giggled.

Dean stood there in silence, his brows furrowing in confusion as he took in his mother's words. After a few minutes, realization dawned on him and he found himself stomping outside with a resounding 'son of a bitch!' Missouri's hysterical laughter the last sound he heard before the door slammed shut behind him.

* * *

_You've got to be kidding me._

That was the first thought that Sam had when he got to school and saw the frightened faces of everyone around him as he clung to the arm of a very stern looking Dean Moseley, watching in fascination as all of the students parted for them as if they were Moses commanding the Red Sea. Gasps and soft whispers could be heard throughout the hallways of Lawrence High School, webs of gossip winding around the two boys like an invisible thread binding them together for all eternity. Dean stared straight ahead while Sam looked around in embarrassment, his rosy cheeks turning a darker shade of crimson as he found himself burying his nose in the older boy's arm.

"Where's your class?" Dean mumbled.

"Right around the corner."

Dean grunted in acknowledgment, leading him to his destination while advising him to alert his teachers to the situation so that they could make the proper precautions to protect him while Dean wasn't around. Sam nodded before watching the boy walk out the door, suddenly feeling very naked without him by his side.

It was funny; Dean barely said anything during breakfast or the ride to school and yet his body spoke volumes the entire time he was with Sam. He was very…protective of him. He wanted him safe, but at the same time, he didn't like being the guard dog. Sam couldn't help but smile as he remembered trying to start a conversation with Dean in the diner, only to have him snap and threaten to use his gun if Sam didn't keep his mouth shut. So hostile. He would have found it hot, if he didn't want Dean's approval so badly. Maybe if he was lucky, Dean would eventually realize how much he really liked Sam, and then they would start dating and have lots of hot sex…yeah, right.

"Hello class!"

The sound of the teacher's voice pulled Sam out of his impure thoughts, the man before him a pleasant sight to behold compared to the last person they had teaching this particular class. Apparently, the last English instructor was caught sleeping with one of his students. Sam wishes he could say that he was surprised, but the lust shining through the eyes of Mr. Cromwell every time Sally Sewell walked by the classroom door was enough for him to put two and two together before he was finally arrested for statutory rape.

_Rape must happen here an awful lot_.

"I'm your new teacher here at the-" the man stopped talking to run his index finger over the desk in the front of the room, sniveling his nose in disgust at the dust gathered on his pale skin- "very dusty high school of Lawrence, Kansas. My name is Gabriel and I understand that the last teacher left off somewhere with…I almost want to say independent clauses."

"Close, but no cigar. The old coot before you didn't do much of anything other than snore during tests and chase pretty little girls."

Everyone in the room turned to the voice that spoke from the doorway, the piercing blue eyes of Evelyn Boyle immediately setting on Sam with a smile that made the young boy blush furiously. From the moment Sam had met the vivacious Evie, she'd done nothing but flirt shamelessly with him the entire time they were in class together. She was nice enough, but the fact that she wasn't a boy was something Sam would have to get used to. For someone who had never been attracted to the opposite sex, Sam sure as hell found himself flustered whenever the buxom beauty so much as shot a glance in his direction. It was a bit unnerving, but rather than question it, Sam decided to explore it instead and see where it went. Maybe he would ask her out. After all, it certainly didn't look like Dean was going to be cozying up to him anytime soon.

"Yes, I heard about the man's unfortunate brush with the law. May I ask how the proper authorities were able to discover his…extra curricular activities?"

Evie smiled at Gabriel as she plopped down in the seat next to Sam. "Easy. She's preggers. Tough break, huh?"

"Well, maybe if he had pulled out, none of this would have happened, eh?"

The entire classroom erupted into a fit of giggles at Gabriel's words, and the next thing Sam knew, the likeability factor for the new teacher had pretty much tripled by the time English had reached its untimely end. Rather than teach his students anything even remotely related to the lesson plan with which Cromwell had become accustomed, he instead decided to devote the entire hour to discussing the importance of birth control, going so far as to demonstrate the proper way to put on a condom using Evie's more than eager fist as a prop. By the time the bell rang, everyone with the exception of Sam had just about laughed their lungs right out of their chests.

"Samuel," Gabriel's voice rang out, stopping Sam dead in his tracks. "Don't leave just yet. I'd like to speak with you, if that's alright."

Sam sighed, turning around to face the mischievous eyes of his new teacher. "Can't it wait? I don't want to be late for my next class."

"This'll only take a minute. I've taken an interest in you, kid. Out of everyone in this entire class, you seem to be the brightest out of the bunch."

"Yeah? How the hell do you know that? You didn't teach a goddamn thing worth paying attention to."

"And yet you were the only one who noticed that. Anyway, I heard you were new here and I was just wondering how everything was going for you so far."

Sam found himself inexplicably drawn to the interesting turn the conversation had taken. Sitting on the edge of the desk, he peered thoughtfully at the strange man before him. "How did you know about me being new? You just got here."

Gabriel smiled knowingly. "I know a lot about you, Samuel. I understand you've been having problems with some boys that go to school here."

Sam's eyes widened. "You…you know about that?"

"I'm a friend of Missouri's. She had a vision that you were in trouble. Lucky for you, her boy was there to save you, huh?"

Sam was stunned. He was pretty sure that this Gabriel was mainly here to keep an eye on him, though how Missouri was able to get a friend of hers a position at his high school, he wasn't sure. He knew he should be grateful for the extra pair of eyes, but something about this man rubbed him the wrong way. He almost reminded Sam of a child, the mischievous behavior and the complete disregard for order and authority flashing warning signs in front of Sam's face that he found himself incapable of ignoring. The entire situation stuck out as extremely bizarre, and Sam had a strange feeling that whatever was happening here was a part of a much larger problem that he couldn't quite put his finger on.

"You're here for me…aren't you?"

"I want you to be safe, Sam. So does Missouri. I know Dean thinks he can protect you, and I'm sure that he can. But you have bigger problems to worry about, and let me tell you, they have nothing to do with a couple of teenage boys who think they can take whatever they want without consequences."

"I don't understand what that means."

"You don't have to worry about any of that right now, Sam. Just know that you can come to me anytime you're having trouble. Dean isn't the only one who's looking out for your wellbeing. His mother seems to have taken quite a liking to you."

Sam smiled softly the way he always did when he thought about Missouri, the woman's beautiful smile and warm embrace permanently etched into his brain. "I've taken a liking to her too. Alright, I'll accept that you're here for me but if you're going to be here then you need to actually teach. I'm not going to allow my education to go down the drain just because I've got an immature child for a professor who has a hard time following rules."

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Whatever, kid. Glad we were able to get all that straightened out. You better get to your next class. See you around, Winchester."

Sam froze, something about the name he'd just heard making his blood run cold. "Winchester?"

Gabriel looked up with wide eyes, an emotion that looked a hell of a lot like fright taking over his handsome features. "Uh…Singer. Sorry, I once knew someone with the last name Winchester. My mistake."

Sam's response was cut off by the sound of Dean's voice. "Sammy! Get your ass out here. We're leaving early."

Sam's eyes narrowed at Gabriel before he got up and followed Dean out of the room, questions swimming through his brain at such a rapid rate that he barely paid attention to Dean's rant about his mother always needing to be bailed out of jail. It wasn't until the older boy snapped his fingers in front of Sam's face that he was finally able to break out of the trance his thoughts had put him in.

"Dude, are you even listening to me?"

"Yeah. I'm sorry, man. I just have a headache. Um…Dean? Do you like…wanna hang out later?"

Dean stopped walking, his muscles tensing beneath his black t-shirt. "Sam, I know you're trying to be friendly, but I really don't need this shit right now. It's bad enough that I have to babysit my mother every two seconds. I really don't want to have to put up with your garbage anymore than I already do. Let's just get mom and go home."

Sam's brow furrowed in confusion. "What are you talking about? I just thought that maybe-"

"Sam, give it a fucking rest. I don't want to be your friend. Can't you get that through your head? I'm only here to make sure that your dumb ass doesn't get abused anymore than you already have."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Dean. I didn't realize that I was such a big inconvenience to you."

"Well, you are!" Dean yelled, turning to face Sam. "I already have enough shit going on right now, Sam. Now, I have to take care of you too! I don't get it, kid. Why can't you just learn to fight back like a normal dude? Why the fuck is it up to me to fight your battles for you? I'm not your fucking father, Sam! Protecting you is supposed to be  _your_  job and yet  _I'm_  stuck with it. It's not fucking fair!"

Sam felt tears burn beneath his eyes as the amount of suppressed rage that had been growing inside of him since that fateful night with Seth finally boiled over and reared its ugly head, leaving Sam powerless in the wake of its blinding hatred. Before Sam knew what was happening, he was up in Dean's face with his finger in the older boy's chest, the pain on his face pulling Dean up short.

"You know what? Can't you just…for once…stop acting like everything that's happening here is happening to  _you_? First of all, I can't protect myself, Dean. In case you've forgotten, I'm only fourteen years old. FOURTEEN! I don't even know how to fucking drive and yet you expect me to fend off a bunch of rapists on my own? Yes, I said rapists because in case you've forgotten; I was the one who was raped, goddammit! I'm the one who has to constantly look over his shoulder waiting for that next shoe to drop. I'm the one with tearing inside my asshole that burns every fucking time I try to sit down! I'm the one who wakes up screaming from nightmares in the middle of the night while you're out there gallivanting with booze and cheap sex. I'm the one who has to deal with all of this shit and you'd think that would be enough, but no! As if all of that wasn't enough, now I get to deal with the only person who can protect me calling me a worthless burden! So, why don't you man the fuck up, show some compassion, and get off my motherfucking back!"

Dean stood in complete silence during Sam's outburst, the tears that cascaded down the boy's pale cheeks touching a part of Dean that until now was thought to have been dead and buried. Before he could even begin to process everything that had just happened, Sam ran off down the block and left Dean by himself in the parking lot. It took a full minute for realization to kick in, the knowledge that the younger boy wasn't by his side hitting Dean like a ton of bricks.

Sam!" he yelled, sprinting off like a bat out of hell. "Sam, come back! I'm sorry!"

Sam didn't answer, and after spending the entire day searching for him, Dean had no choice but to come to the conclusion he wanted so badly to deny.

Sam was gone.

 


	7. Hank

Bright yellow eyes peered out from within the leafy branches to glance at the boy walking languidly along a dirt path that led to an abandoned cabin in the woods. His steps were sloppy and unsure, his bent head causing sweaty bangs to plaster to his forehead in the scorching heat of the summer sun. From where he was standing, Azazel had a hard time seeing the child's face, but the whimpers falling from his lips were enough to know that he was crying.

As the prowling demon struggled to see the child's face, a rumble of thunder from somewhere in the distance had the boy glancing worriedly at the incoming clouds. The dark hazel eyes made the scheming man smile in triumph, the beautiful satisfaction that came with being so close to Samuel Winchester better than any orgasm he could ever remember having. The boy was finally here, right in front of him. It was time to make his move.

"Psst. Hey, kid! You alright?"

Sam whirled around at the sound of the tiny hiss. His body began to shake uncontrollably from the sobs threatening to spill from his mouth. The heaving breaths erupted into a fit of cries when the strange man in front of him immediately wrapped his arms around his shoulders and asked what was wrong. Without thinking of the consequences, the tired boy relayed the events of the past 24 hours into the chest of the kind stranger, glad to have the heavy burden of information lifted off his tense shoulders. The idea that he shouldn't be so forthcoming with someone he'd known for less than a minute hadn't crossed his mind, for he was too enraptured in his own misery to care about how reckless he was being with himself and the people he knew and cared about. The flood of pain and despair raging within him was too strong, the self-loathing too intense for him to think of anything other than releasing it all into the summer air where it could no longer bother him.

"Well," the stranger chuckled, "it certainly seems like you've had your hands full. You poor, poor thing. Why don't I take you to my little cabin just around the corner and get you a nice glass of fresh lemonade. Whaddya say?"

Sam smiled through his tears, his sad eyes gleaming in the daylight. "O-okay."

Azazel tried to contain his excitement at Sam's response. Ushering the child around the corner, he walked up the steps to the cabin and held the door open for his boy. Making sure Sam was safe and sound at the kitchen table, he proceeded to retrieve two tall glasses from the overhead cupboard before pouring the dull yellow liquid into the cups, lifting his head long enough to send a tiny smile Sam's way. When he was finished, he cautiously approached the sniffling boy.

"Drink this. It'll help you feel better."

Sam took a long sip while looking up from beneath his long eyelashes. Azazel's hands tightened around each other, the sudden urge to take the boy overwhelming. He had no idea he was destined for such greatness, but Azazel would make him see. He'd turn that fragile innocence into something else entirely, warp the child's naïve mind to his way of thinking until he had the perfect little fighting machine. Sam would then be ready to do his bidding, to be the key ingredient in his master plan for world domination.

"Are you okay?" Sam's quiet voice rang out in the tiny room, disrupting the demon's wicked thoughts.

"Huh? Oh, yes, yes. I'm fine. Now…why don't you tell me about yourself, uh…?"

"Sam."

Azazel smiled. "Sam. Nice to meet ya, kid. You can call me Hank. I like that name."

"Is it your real one?"

"Well, no. But I don't like my real name so Hank will do just fine."

"Okay," Sam smiled.

Azazel listened intently to Sam's life story, most of which he already knew. What surprised him was the amount of time he spent talking about his brother. Of course, he didn't know that Dean was his brother yet, but the way he spoke about him was enough for the demon to know that he was sexually attracted to the young man, regardless of how he treated him.

"So, then Dean just…I don't know. He yelled at me and I freaked out on him and just…took off. Now I have no idea where I am and I've been walking all day and all night."

"So…you've been walking since yesterday afternoon? How is it possible that these people who care about you haven't found you yet? You mentioned something about a Missouri?"

Sam's soft smile took the demon by surprise. "I have no doubt that she will find me eventually. But I'm not sure if I want to go home. There's too much to deal with over there and I feel overwhelmed. It's like I have this huge weight on my shoulders and I have so much to worry about. There are people who want to hurt me and all Dean can think about is himself."

"Again with this Dean. You've mentioned him a lot since you've been here. Is this boy special to you?"

Sam's brows furrowed in confusion. "Well…I know he shouldn't be. You know, because I hardly know him and all. But it's like I feel this strange connection to him and I have no idea what it is."

"Well, in my experience-"

"Which I'm guessing is considerable."

"Yes. When someone feels a special connection to another human being, I believe that that's the universe's way of trying to tell you something. Maybe this Dean is your soul mate. Either that or maybe he's just someone you're destined to have in your life."

"Maybe. But I just don't see how I can make him like me. I want him to like me. I try to get him to like me. But it's like…it's like he purposefully pushes me away. He doesn't seem to want anyone near him and I think he feels that if he needs to insult you or be a jerk to you to get his message across and to get you to hate him then that's what he'll do and it's just…impossible to break through his force field."

Azazel smiled. "Everyone has a chink in their armor, Sam. You've just gotta find it."

Sam looked fondly at his newfound friend, glad to finally have somebody who genuinely cared about what he was feeling. Well, he knew Missouri cared and he knew his dad cared. But with Hank, he felt like he could tell him anything and never get judged for it. That alone was worth more to Sam than anything else in the world.

"Do you think we could hang out more? You know…like friends? I don't have many friends."

Sam put his head down in shame and Azazel looked at him rather intently. "I can't understand why. You're a special boy, Samuel. More special than you realize."

Azazel lifted the boy's chin and looked deeply into his eyes, reveling in the tiny shiver he got in return for the intimate gesture. The silence the action caused gave the demon time to truly appreciate the face of his most prized possession. If he leaned in any closer, he'd be able to feel those soft lips against his own. He had no doubt the boy would take what he gave him gratefully. Hell, his vulnerability would probably make him susceptible to much more than a kiss from his new "friend." It was for this reason that he had inhabited the body of that thirty year old doctor from Kentucky with the beautiful blue eyes and the dazzling smile, knowing full well that the man's handsome face would render the child before him incapable of rational thought when the time was right…but it wasn't. At least…not yet.

"Um…I-I should probably be going," Sam stuttered, his face flushed.

"I could take you," Azazel murmured, dragging the pad of his thumb over the boy's lower lip.

Sam recoiled, fear and arousal warring for dominance inside his befuddled mind. "Okay. Um, yeah. That'll be fine."

Azazel smiled warmly, turning his head to hide the flash of yellow that overtook the blue irises of his detestable meat suit. After all this time, the tide was finally turning. He was on the verge of getting what was his, and  _nothing_ was going to stand in the way. After all this time, he finally had what he wanted.

He had Sam Winchester.

* * *

The repeated ticking of the clock on the wall rang loudly in the ears of Bobby and Missouri, the silence between them doing nothing to lessen the mounting frustration that came from waiting for Dean to get back from his search for Sam. 24 hours had passed since he'd been gone, and after the fight between Dean and Bobby that almost turned physical, tensions were still high enough that Missouri couldn't get Bobby to say one word to her in the entire time her son had been out there looking.

Ever since Dean came to bail her out from yet another run in with the law, Missouri had been reexamining her parenting skills when it came to her stubborn boy, convinced that his outburst where Sam was concerned was just him taking out all the anger that was supposed to be directed at her out on the only person that was there to hear him. Knowing this was as good as admitting her guilt in everything that had happened, and she wasn't able to look at herself in the mirror without feeling like the whole situation she was in now was her fault. If anything happened to Sam, she didn't think she'd ever be able to forgive herself. More importantly, she knew Dean would never forgive himself either.

Deciding that her dark thoughts had gone on long enough, she attempted to make conversation with the angry man beside her on the living room couch, his folded arms and deep scowl a huge indication that he was still fuming from his fight with Dean. Knowing this, she thought it best to approach with caution.

"You have a beautiful boy, Mr. Singer. Not only that, but a smart boy. I know he's going to be just fine."

Bobby's mouth twitched, but other than that, he stayed completely silent. Encouraged by this, Missouri spoke again.

"I know that what Dean said to him made him run away but this isn't his fault."

"Not his fault?" Bobby whispered, his eerily calm tone making her fall short. "My boy-" Bobby choked on his words as he struggled not to cry- "my boy is out there, lord knows if he's okay or not, walking around in a town that he's not at all familiar with, and all you can say is that none of this is Dean's fault? Sam never would have walked off if it wasn't for that little bastard."

"And that 'little bastard' is doing all that he can to make it right and bring your boy home," Missouri countered, rage building up inside of her at the insult to her son.

"Heh," Bobby chuckled darkly, standing to his feet and pacing back and forth on the thick carpet under his feet. "Makin' it right, eh? Let me tell you something, Missouri; that boy of yours is no good. He can't even muster up enough sympathy to treat my boy with some damn respect after the hell he's been through, a hell that up until now, I wasn't even aware of. Instead of showing Sammy some goddamn love and affection, he acts as if my son is nothing but a fucking burden to him. God forbid he show a little fucking compassion for anyone but himself. Your son is a menace! He's a motherfucking brat who needs to get a good ass whoopin' and let me tell you, if he doesn't bring my son home safely, I am going to kill that punk. I will rip his insides out and shove them down his fucking throat! I swear I'll kill him for doing this to me…to my son. He's all I have left in this world!"

The sight of the tears spilling from the older man's cheeks made Missouri spring up and wrap Bobby in her arms, falling with him to the ground as his legs caved out from under him.

"Where's my boy?" he sobbed. "I want my son. Please, give me back my Sammy."

Missouri held on as the heart wrenching sobs coming from the man in her arms threatened to push her over the edge of despair. She had to be strong for the both of them, to have faith that Dean would bring Sam home safe and sound. The poor boy was probably out there with Dean's awful words ringing in his head, perhaps thinking that maybe he was right and that Sam really was a burden. Little does he know, his feelings of self-loathing were nothing compared to Dean's, who had a look of such stinging pain on his face the entire time he told Missouri exactly what happened between him and Sam. Her son may have his problems, but he  _was_  capable of love. It was just too bad she was the only one who could see it.

The sound of the Impala's engine made both parents stand at attention, each holding their breath as the front door opened to reveal a very somber looking Dean. When he shot a glance in their direction and shook his head, both of their faces fell. Bobby uttered a cry of anguish and fell back to the ground while Missouri stared at the tears her son was trying to keep in for the sake of appearances. Her heart felt as if it would cave in on itself if she didn't find their Sammy, a threat that was becoming more and more promising as time went on. With Dean's lack of luck after a 24 hour search, it was doubtful that any of them would find the boy now.

Just as Missouri was considering calling on Gabriel for help, another car pulled into the parking lot. Dean stared in shock as Sam got out of the strange Jeep Wrangler accompanied by an even stranger man who walked with his arms around the boy in a slightly possessive gesture.

"Sam!" Bobby yelled, rushing to take his loving boy into his arms. "Oh, god. Oh, Sammy. Don't you ever do that to me again, damn you. What the hell were you thinking?"

"I'm sorry, dad," Sam whispered, not returning the hug his father gave him. "It won't happen again, I promise."

A familiar feeling of connectivity surged through the recovered boy, making him look up and lock eyes with Dean. Both boys stared at each other as a visual dance of longing and relief displayed itself in the looks they gave one another, a tiny, humorless smile tugging at the corners of Sam's lips at the reluctant desire showing up in Dean's expression. The stubborn teenager could hide it all he wanted, but Sam knew that he was getting to the older boy and him being away where Dean couldn't find him must have deepened the ache he just knew was developing inside Dean, an ache Sam knew was all for him.

Breaking free of his father, Sam slowly made his way over to Dean, stopping in front of him. He could feel the older boy's body stiffen from the close proximity, his jaw clenching and unclenching in perfect rhythm with the fists he held at his sides. Stepping up close until their lips were just inches apart, Sam looked into his eyes and tried unsuccessfully to hide his anguished expression.

"Miss me?" he whispered.

Dean's pained look became more pronounced, the sight of it capturing so much of Sam's attention that the feeling of Dean's possessive grip at his waist took him by surprise as he pulled Sam flush against him, putting their foreheads together.

"Don't you  _ever_  do that again," his deep voice rumbled, breathing heavily through his nose.

"Okay… _sir_ ," Sam replied teasingly, a tiny sigh escaping his lips at the low growl Dean let out.

"Sam!" Hank called out.

Both boys turned to face Sam's rescuer. "I gotta head out. I was just speaking to your dad and he asked if I wanted to have dinner with you guys on Friday night. You game?"

"Sure!" Sam replied excitedly, his happiness short-lived as he felt hands grip the sides of his hips once again. He was pulled so his back was pressed against Dean's chest, the action making Sam smile.

"Who the hell is that?" Dean snarled in his ear.

"The man who saved me from roaming the streets, that's who. He's become a friend of mine."

"I don't trust him. Invite me over on Friday."

"But-"

" _Now_ , Sam."

Sam chuckled darkly, turning his head so that he could gaze into Dean's green eyes.

"Okay, then," Sam murmured. "Come over on Friday."

Dean glared at Sam. "Fine."

As Dean pushed Sam away and stormed off inside the house, Sam caught Missouri's eye and smirked conspiratorially at her. She returned his grin with a knowing smile, the events of the last couple of minutes not lost upon the smart woman.

So…Dean was capable of jealousy when it came to Sam as well as his mother. Sam knew the older boy didn't realize it yet, but this entire experience had made him more possessive of Sam than ever, and the scheming boy had absolutely no doubt that he was going to use Friday to exploit that. He could see of no other alternative to getting close to the reluctant teenager. If Dean wouldn't open up to Sam on his own, then he'd just have to give him a little push in the direction he wanted Dean to go in. Maybe after all this was over, he could finally get what he just now realized he wanted...Dean.

 


	8. Don't Hold Back

Bobby observed the dreamy smile on his son's face with an uncomfortable sense of unease, silently taking in every detail of the boy's features, from the upturned lips to the stars glittering in the hazel irises of his catlike eyes. He was sitting on the loveseat in the living room, his legs folded to the side and one arm resting comfortably on his thigh, the other on the armrest. His chin rested on the palm of his right hand while he stared off at something in the ceiling that Bobby couldn't see, his entire demeanor screaming unknown words his father tried desperately to hear.

"Sam? Are you okay?"

Sam breathed in sharply through his nose as he lifted his head off his palm, looking at Bobby as if he just now realized he was there. "Huh?"

"It's just that you seem so…distracted."

Sam's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Distracted?"

 _Well, this is going nowhere fast._  "Never mind. I was just worried, that's all. So, how you holdin' up? You know, after all this stuff with that Seth and all."

Bobby would have to have been stupid not to notice the deflation of the happy balloon Sam was riding on at the mention of his rapist and he almost cursed himself for taking the light away from his son's eyes.

"I'm fine, dad. Really, I am. I just don't wanna talk about it, okay?"

"Sure," Bobby smiled sadly. "Yeah, okay."

"I'm going up to my room. I'll be back down later for supper."

Bobby watched Sam walk away in silence, waiting until his son was out of earshot before picking up the phone and dialing a number he really didn't feel like calling. He debated whether or not to hang up the entire time it rang, only to have someone pick up and make his final decision for him.

"Yeah?"

Bobby's hand tightened on the phone at the deep growl on the other end of the line, his anger steadily rising. "Where's your mother?"

The scoff he got in return had Bobby seeing red. "Answer me, you little brat."

"Where's Sam?"

"That's none of your concern. He's fine and that's all you need to know so put your goddamn mother on the fucking phone."

"I want to talk to your son first."

Bobby's eyes widened at the nerve of this boy, his demands to speak to a child that he made disappear with his sharp tongue more than a little laughable. "You ain't speakin' to my kid so fuck you."

"Then you ain't speakin' to my mama," the voice countered, mocking Bobby's accent.

Bobby threw the phone across the room in anger, a string of colorful profanities spilling from his lips. Dean Moseley was one giant pain in the ass. It had been almost a full week since Sam had come back, and his adamant refusal to let Dean see his son was rapidly becoming a battle of wills as much as a battle for Sam. But this was one war Bobby was going to win. His boy was the most important thing in the world to him and he'd be damned if he was going to let some snot nosed kid like Dean ruin him. The Moseley boy was a menace to society, a stain on the underwear of humanity. He was one person that Sam didn't need in his life, especially after all he'd been through. If Bobby had to take drastic measures to prevent Dean from seeing Sam then he'd do whatever it took.

Grabbing his coat from the other room, he glanced upstairs where Sam's room was located before walking out the door and getting into his car. It was about time he paid that Moseley kid a little visit.

* * *

"Bobby?"

Missouri looked confusedly at the man before her, the sleep clouded eyes she was trying to see out of blinking their bewilderment through parallel slits.

"Can I come in?"

Before she could answer, she felt the presence of her son and let out a hesitant breath. Dean opened the door wider and stared at Bobby, the smirk he'd perfected over the years disappearing when he realized Sam wasn't there. Missouri knew this conversation wasn't going to be pleasant as soon as she noticed the scowl on Dean's face.

"Where's Sam?" he growled menacingly.

"Hey, guys? Let's not get into a fight right here in the middle of the doorway, okay?"

Bobby and Dean stared each other down as if Missouri hadn't just spoken.

"You're not going to see him, Dean. That's actually why I came here. I want you to stay away from my son. I don't care if I have to kick your ass to get that message across. You're a rotten boy who refused to protect him when the going got tough. Instead, you yelled at him and made him feel like he was nothing but a burden. You don't deserve to be anywhere near that kid."

"I said I was sorry," Dean said through clenched teeth. "I'd take it back if I could. Hell, I spent 24 hours looking for your boy while you just sat on your whiny little ass sobbin' like a little bitch!"

"You wouldn't have had to go chasing him down if you hadn't of bitched him out in the first place!" Bobby yelled.

Missouri leaned against the doorway and looked from one macho male to the other, boredom evident on her features. She watched the shouting match for five minutes without any real fascination, wishing that they'd both shut the hell up so she could ask about Sam's wellbeing. When it looked like it was about to get physical, she finally took it upon herself to intervene.

"Alright, now everyone shut the hell up!"

Bobby and Dean immediately ceased the fight and stared at the shouting woman in awe. She allowed herself a moment to relax before speaking in a much more civil tone.

"Look, I highly doubt you two fighting is doing Sam any favors. Now, I know you both care for him-"

"Your boy doesn't give a fuck about anyone but himself!" Bobby interrupted.

"You watch your tone when talking about my son," Missouri warned ominously, getting up in the old man's space. "Now, I know Dean can be a little asshole who don't like to show no emotion but let me tell you something about my boy; he cares about your son more than you'll ever know. It scares him because he feels a connection to a child that he barely knows but more importantly, it scares him because he believes caring about anyone or anything makes him weak and vulnerable. My son has been through more than you'll ever know and so excuse him for taking it out on Sam because it's the only way he knows how to handle the clusterfuck of emotions that's been shoved his way, thanks to his feelings for that kid."

"I don't have feelings for Sam," Dean muttered at the ground.

Missouri whirled around and stared her son dead in the eye. "You don't, huh? Then tell me why the hell I heard you pacing the floor of your bedroom all night last week when Bobby told you that you wouldn't see Sam again? Why do you want to see him so badly anyway?"

"To protect him. Keep him safe. That's what you all wanted, wasn't it?"

"Ah, but Bobby doesn't want that anymore. He's convinced that he can take care of good ole Sam all on his own. So, let me ask you again; why the hell do you want to see Sam?"

Dean's silence was all the answer Missouri needed. "That's what I thought. Stop denying it, boy. You and I both know that this thing between you and Sam means something, even if you don't want to admit it."

"Oh, balls!" Bobby exclaimed. "There's nothing between him and Sam! How could there be? Sam is a sweet child who wouldn't hurt a fly. Dean's a miserable and rebellious little boy who thinks his problems are so much worse than anyone else's. He doesn't deserve to be within five yards of Sammy."

"You know what," Dean said, throwing his hands up in the air. "Fine. You win. I'm not going to waste my time trying to protect a kid that I don't give a damn about. Yes, mother. I don't give a flying fuck about Sam. I was just trying to do what was expected of me but clearly, I overstepped my bounds. You can go fuck yourself, Bobby. You don't want my help? FINE! Be responsible for killing your son because I'm done with this shit!"

Dean stormed off into the house and slammed his bedroom door so hard, Missouri could have sworn the entire house shook. A heavy sigh escaped her lips as she turned around to face Bobby, feeling more tired now than she did before her nap. "Why did you call earlier, Bobby? Was it just to upset my son or was there another reason?"

Bobby's eyes softened for the first time since she'd answered the door, all of the anger evaporating from his shrewd appearance. "Look…I'm sorry about this, Missouri. I don't got nothin' against you. I know that you and Sam are close so I figured I'd see if maybe you wanted to see him and help me figure out just what's wrong with him because I'm startin' to get the feelin' that I don't know my boy as well as I should."

"He wants to see Dean, Bobby. I can tell you that much."

"He's not going anywhere near my son!" Bobby yelled.

"Calm the fuck down, boy!"

Bobby stared at her in silence.

"Sorry," he muttered.

"Look, Bobby; I know that you care about Sam but what you fail to realize is that Dean cares too. He says he doesn't but I know my boy and I can guarantee you that he does. I also know that Sam cares for Dean as well. I know you ain't crazy about him and lord knows I sure as hell can't stand the little shit half the time myself, what with his mood swings and all, but Sam likes him, Bobby. He likes him a lot."

"But-but why? He doesn't even…he…Christ, he called my boy a burden for fuck sake!"

Missouri smiled sadly. "That's my fault. He was so upset about me and with everything that's on his plate already, I'm afraid he ended up taking it out on Sam without even meaning to."

"I don't give a fuck about his reasons. He still put Sam in danger. I don't want him seeing my son."

"He already invited Dean over for your little dinner tomorrow, Bobby. That man that saved Sam made him…well, I think he made him a little jealous."

"You've gotta be kidding me," Bobby groaned.

"Just let nature take its course, honey. Because fighting it isn't goin' to do no good. Besides, if there's one thing I know about my boy, it's that he never gives up on the people he cares about. If he truly has any kind of feeling for Sam whatsoever, which he does, he's going to ignore your wishes and go after him regardless of what you say. There's nothing you can do, Bobby. I'm sorry."

Bobby swore under his breath. "Listen, Missouri; I know that I'm not the best father in the world, but that doesn't mean that I'm not going to do whatever it takes to protect my kid. I don't trust your son as far as I can throw him. Now, I might not be able to change Sam's feelings for this boy, but I can sure as hell do my best to make sure that they have as little interaction as possible. I'll let them see each other on Friday, but after that, I'm pulling Sam out of school and we're moving as far away from that little brat as possible. Mark my words; he will  _never_  see Sam again."

Missouri watched Bobby storm off before looking toward Dean's bedroom. This unfortunate turn of events posed a huge problem for everyone involved. There was no way in hell that she could allow those boys to separate, not after all the time it took for them to be reunited again. If she couldn't change Bobby's mind, they would all be screwed. Azazel was drawing close to them all, she could feel it. It was only a matter of time before he came and wreaked havoc on these boys, and then she wouldn't be able to protect them anymore.

The sound of a door opening forced her negative thoughts into the deepest recesses of her mind. Dean stared at her with an expression she'd never seen on his face before today, the sight of it bringing a lump to her throat.

"He wants to take Sammy away," he said quietly.

"Yes, yes he does."

Missouri sighed as she watched Dean walk out of the house before she could stop him, all the fight she had left draining out of her. With every second that passed by, she could feel the stirrings of the approaching storm getting stronger, the situation in which they all faced lost upon everyone except the perceptive clairvoyant. Azazel was drawing near, and the first person he was going to target would be Sam. She just hoped that Dean could let go of all his fear and anger long enough to allow Sam to melt his frozen heart. Because without them both…they would not survive.

"I'm getting too old for this shit," she said to herself, making her way back to her bedroom for a much-needed second nap. As she laid in bed waiting for sleep to claim her, a vision flashed through her mind of Sam and Dean in a rather compromising position, the images playing before her drawing her full lips into a tiny smile that not even the unconsciousness she fell into could wipe away.

* * *

Sam shot straight up in bed with an audible gasp, ignoring the sweaty bangs plastered to his forehead as he glanced around the room in fright. It took five minutes for him to realize that his nightmare was over and that he was no longer with Seth and his cronies, but the horrible dream still lingered, the parts of his body they touched still tingling uncomfortably in the summer air. His brain struggled to come back to reality, allowing him to breathe in one slow breath at a time as he began grounding himself back to the present. His efforts to stave off the impending flashbacks proved fruitless, however, and the memories of his assault came flooding back to the surface of his mind before he could stop them, salty tears falling profusely down his rosy cheeks.

The sound of tapping startled him out of his misery, the pained look on his face vanishing as he glanced at Dean starring back at him with an expression that told Sam he was just as upset as he was, though what could have put that look on Dean's face was a mystery Sam could only guess at. Rushing to the window separating them, he lifted it with great ease and pulled the older boy inside, immediately pulling back in shock.

"Dean? What are you doing here? What's wrong?"

Dean looked up at Sam and stared at him for what felt like forever, his eyes growing dark with an odd combination of pain and lust. The struggle for whether or not to show his emotion warred within his soul like stray dogs fighting for scraps, despair clinging helplessly to his shaking frame. One long look into the eyes of the boy before him helped him make up his mind as he allowed everything to come to the surface for the first time in a long time, the tears spilling down his face disappearing in between trembling lips.

"C'mere," he said, his voice cracking beneath the weight of his sorrow.

Sam took hesitant steps towards the boy perched on the window ledge, unsure of what to make of this side of Dean. When he stood in front of him, he gasped quietly as he felt Dean's hands grip his hips and rest his forehead against Sam's chest, letting out a shaking breath that tingled the younger boy's bare skin.

"Dean? Dean, you're scaring me."

Dean looked up and placed a gentle kiss over Sam's left nipple, the sensation making him moan quietly.

"I'm sorry," he murmured.

Those two words spoke volumes to Sam. Without another word, he took Dean's hand and led him to the bed, keeping his eyes focused on Dean's the entire time. It was then that Dean realized the room was illuminated by candles placed atop the boy's nightstand and dressers, the fiery glow playing across Sam's face and making his eyes glitter. The full moon fell through the curtains and hit the bed in an open invitation, an invitation made all the more promising when Sam took off his boxers and laid down on the mattress, spreading his legs shamelessly for Dean.

"Lick me open. Dean," he whispered, dried tears leaving clear streaks across his handsome face, "Show me how good sex can be when I'm not being forced."

Dean fell on the bed between Sam's legs before he could stop himself, licking a long stripe up the boy's sensitive flesh. Sam moaned quietly, arching his back against the intense pleasure of Dean's talented tongue. He lapped greedily at Sam's hole, each tentative lick bringing the child closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy. Wanting to give him as much pleasure as possible, Dean placed his mouth over the tight, pink rim and sucked hard on the puckered skin, reveling in the screams he got in return for his efforts.

"Dean," Sam whined, squeezing the older boy's hair in his fist.

Dean abandoned his ministrations and crawled up the bed until he was eye level with Sam. "What is it, baby?" he whispered. "Tell me what you want."

Sam stretched his neck out and licked at Dean's lips. "I want your cock."

Dean shivered. "Sammy…"

"Please, De. I need it. Need you. Want you inside my body."

Sensing the older boy's hesitation, Sam sat up and began removing Dean's clothes in silence, occasionally rubbing a hand down each stretched of exposed skin being revealed to him. When Dean was completely naked, Sam stared in awe at the size of his dick, the sight of it bringing blood to the surface of his cheeks.

"Put it in me, Dean. Do it nice and slow. Make love to me."

Dean's face betrayed his desire to hold back, but Sam wasn't having any of it. He knew it was probably too soon for him to be getting this intimate with someone after everything that's happened to him. He also knew that this must have been the closest Dean's been to someone emotionally in a very long time. But he needed Dean on top of him, needed him to take away the nightmares and replace the anguish with pleasure so keen, it would border on pain. He needed to close his eyes at night and feel Dean's skin pressed against his, needed to erase the scent of Seth and bathe himself in Dean's sweat. He needed to make Dean lose control, to show him that it was okay to let go.

Pulling on Dean's hand until he was blanketed over him, Sam ran his fingers through the boy's wet hair and looked deeply into his emerald eyes.

"How do you want me, Dean?" he whispered. "I want you to take me. I want you to have me however you want."-Sam stopped to kiss him heatedly on the lips, whimpering when Dean's tongue slid sensually into his open mouth- "Don't hold back."

Dean's breaths quickened as he laid Sam down on the bed, poising himself over the debauched boy. When he hesitated once more, Sam leaned forward and whispered sassily into his ear, "Would you like  _Hank_  to do it instead?"

Dean growled, and before Sam knew what was happening, he felt the entire length of the older boy's cock ram into him in one fluid motion, the intense pleasure making him cry out in surprise.

" _Ooh,_ De. Big. You're so big. Oh,  _fuuuck_."

" _Mine_ , Sammy," he snarled.

"Yours," Sam moaned, resting his ankles on Dean's thighs. "All yours."

Sam grabbed onto Dean's sweat slicked shoulders as he slowly slid in and out of Sam's body. The bed creaked gently from their movements, harsh pants and long, drawn out sighs of pleasure filling the room as they made love as quietly as they could, trying not to wake up Bobby. Sam had never felt this way before. Dean's arms surrounded him, making him feel safe and cherished. He wasn't being forced to do any of this. He could stop anytime he wanted but he didn't. He wanted this to last forever, to spend an eternity wrapped up in Dean's skin.

Sam sighed when Dean maneuvered them so that they were on their sides, back pressed against Dean's chest. His leg was lifted onto the boy's hip as he reentered him, the sensation too much for him to handle. He tried pulling away, but Dean's arms tightened around his shaking body.

"Shh. Hush, baby. You told me to take you however I wanted. Well, I want you like this. I want you fucking losing it for me. I want you to feel it all, Sammy. My hand on your cock, my prick in your wet little asshole, my whispered words in your ears. I want you to know you're mine. I'll never let anyone else have you again."

Sam groaned loudly, the sound cut off by Dean's hand over his mouth.

"Be quiet, Sam. I don't want Bobby to hear us. Your daddy hates me, Sammy. It's no wonder. He said I was bad news and I guess he was right, huh? I mean, look at me now: making love to his precious Sammy in his own bed, making the wood creak while I impale his good little boy with my thick cock, pleasuring him so good he can't see straight."

Sam sobbed into Dean's palm, removing it long enough to whisper back, "You're not bad, Dean. You're good. So fucking good. I love you, De. I love you."

Dean let out a strangled cry resembling that of a wounded animal. Flipping them so that Sam was once again on his back, Dean sat on his haunches and forcibly spread Sam's legs wide open, grabbing his thighs and pulling him down the bed and onto his prick. The force of his thrusts had Sam's eyes rolling in the back of his head, Dean's name spilling repeatedly from his lips. Just when he thought he couldn't take it anymore, he felt his climax surge through every inch of his body, the sensation ripping out moan after shivery moan. His muscles clenched around Dean's cock, triggering the older boy's orgasm. Dean fell on top of Sam and groaned his pleasure into Sam's mouth, a steady chant of 'mine' whispered over and over as both heartbeats slowly returned to a normal rhythm.

"I love you," Sam whispered, running his hands all over Dean's body.

Dean bit his lip as he stared down at Sam.

" _Sammy_ ," he moaned."I-"

Dean's words were interrupted by the slamming of Sam's door as it banged open against the wall. A gasp of horror escaped Sam's lips as he pushed at Dean and sat up in bed, using the sheets to cover his frame. His eyes widened in realization as he looked upon the last person he ever expected to see, his heart doing flip flops in his chest.

_This can't be happening. Tell me this isn't happening._

"Oh, god…dad?"


	9. Slip Of The Tongue

For the first few moments following Bobby's emergence, it seemed as though the world fell off its axis as time froze solid, the minutes held perfectly still beneath the weight of danger emanating from the man across the room. The scent of sex wafted through the air in direct opposition to the hatred seeping from Bobby's every pore, each breath pulled from his flared nostrils becoming more frequent with every second he spent glaring at the boy beside his son. Both teenagers slipped into their boxers without once taking their eyes off of Sam's father, his murderous snarl when Dean whispered a 'hush, baby' in response to Sam's sniffle making the young boy wonder how it was possible they didn't burst into flames from it.

Sam recognized his father's stare for what it was and grabbed at Dean instinctively, trying to shield him from the older man's apocalyptic rage. However, before he could so much as throw himself in the way, Dean was up and off the bed in record time, just seconds away from being tackled to the mattress by a leaping Bobby. Sam flinched as the man fell beside him, the whole thing happening so fast he barely had time to catch his bearings before Bobby jumped off the bed and got right up in Dean's face, spitting curses at him that would make a sailor blush.

"You cocksuckin' whore! Why the fuck couldn't you go out and play with some girl's cunt if you wanted your dick wet that fuckin' badly? Why did you have to go after my boy! He was raped for fuck sake! What the hell is wrong with you?!"

Dean stood there in silence, his hands balling into fists at his sides.

"Answer me, goddammit!"

"Because I wanted to!" Dean yelled. "You wouldn't let me see him. What the fuck was I supposed to do, old man? Huh? Just forget about him? How the hell am I gonna do that when I can't get your son out of my fucking head!"

"You had NO right to touch my boy! He didn't want this. He's confused!"

"Oh, but I did," Dean shot back, his voice shaking with anger and pain. "I did the whole manly thing right there in that bed and trust me…your son  _wanted_ it"- Dean broke from his words to advance on Bobby, chuckling humorlessly when the older man took a few steps back in surprise- "You should have heard all the pretty noises he was makin' for me. He  _begged_  me to make love to him and that's exactly what I did. I gave him what he needed, what he wanted. I got all up inside of him and slid in and out of that sweet little asshole so good, he kept chantin' my name like I was his fuckin' salvation. Your boy wanted  _every inch_ of my cock and you bet your ass, I gave it. You certainly weren't takin' care of him so I figured I might as well pick up your slack. You can't tell me you've been doing your job when it comes to caring for Sam. 'Cause if you were, he wouldn't be all over my stick."

"YOU SON OF A BITCH!" Bobby screamed, tackling Dean to the ground.

Sam watched in horror as both males fought with an intense ferocity, struggling to find the strength to separate one from the other. Eventually, he got it into his head to scream at the top of his lungs for them to stop, but his pleas went unnoticed as Dean got the upper hand and delivered a brutal punch to Bobby's jaw. Not one to be owned in a fight, Sam's father jumped to his feet at the same time as his opponent, grabbing the fist flying towards his face and kicking hard at the boy's stomach, the action sending Dean spiraling across the room.

"I'm gonna take care of you real good, boy," Bobby growled.

"Not as good as I took care of your son," Dean gasped, his lip contorting into a nasty sneer.

"You think you're funny? You're nothing, Dean. You're nothing but a parasite, a worthless piece of shit that can't even muster up the strength to make his mama proud because there's nothing to be proud of. Look at you! What the hell have you done with your life besides burden everyone with your detestable presence? Do you even know why you're adopted? It's because your parents didn't want anything to do with you. They took one long look at that ugly face and saw you for what you were; a demon! You're a dirty, worthless, filthy little beast! You deserve everything you get and if it was up to me, I would have replaced Sam with you and watched you get your ass gang raped while God himself watched!"

Dean's face made a number of transformations as Bobby stood screaming over him, but the expression that won out was fear. As soon as the older man yelled the words "filthy beast" at him, the look of malice disappeared and Sam watched as fright took over. His eyes widened and his bottom lip trembled, his entire body shaking with something Sam couldn't define.

"Dad, stop it!" Sam yelled. "You're scaring him!"

Bobby whipped around at the sound of Sam's voice. "You think I'm scaring him  _now_? You just wait."

Sam waited until his father stormed out the door before running to Dean's side. "Dean? Dean, come on. You have to get out of here. Dean? Dean!"

Dean looked up at the mention of his name, blinking the confusion out of his green eyes. He struggled to morph the hazy patches of his brain into a picture of clarity, weeding out the unwanted memories Bobby's tirade drudged up in favor of shedding some light on the situation in which he currently found himself. Understanding mixed with dread and just a touch of guilt plagued his mind as he stood to his full height, shaking his head when Sam tried placing a tentative hand on his shaking shoulders.

Bobby's footsteps stormed up the stairs before anything could be said between the two teenagers, the sight of his shotgun giving Dean all the encouragement he needed to dart out the window before the old man could so much as pull the trigger.

"Gone, huh? I knew that kid was chicken shit."

Sam whirled around to face his father, anger evident in every inch of his shaking body. "How dare you! I can sleep with whoever I want!"

"Goddammit, boy!" Bobby snarled, grabbing Sam's shoulders and giving him a shake. "What the hell is wrong with you? You were raped, son! I can help you but you've got to let me. You don't have to give your body away like you mean nothing! You're worth something, Sam. I promise."

Sam recoiled from Bobby's touch, throwing his hands up in the air. "You don't know shit! I didn't do this because I felt worthless. I did this because I wanted to! Yes, I do believe that I'm worthless but that's only when I'm not around Dean. You don't have the slightest clue what I've been through and you would never understand."

Bobby's face fell at his son's tears. "Then help me understand, Sam. Tell me what's wrong!"

"I just-" Sam broke off as sobs wracked his thin form, the cries pulled out of him making it hard to understand what he was saying- "I just wanted it to stop! I keep having these dreams about Seth and his friends and I can't shake it. It's all I ever think about. I can still feel their calloused hands on my skin, can still hear the names they call me echoing in my ears. Whenever I close my eyes, I can see his face pressing against mine and it makes me sick! I just wanted to replace it all with something else, to be able to open my eyes and find someone other than Seth or his wretched friends on top of me or in between my spread legs! Then Dean came and I was so confused because I felt so scared and his presence makes me feel so safe and I just…I wanted him to make it all go away. I wanted him to do it because I have this connection to him that I can't figure out and he's the only one who could make those memories disappear and replace them with…him. When he was with me, it was his hands on my body, it was him inside me, and it was his voice whispering in my ears. I thought that now I could finally wake up and think about this night and smile instead of screaming myself awake every morning trying to fight off invisible rapists who only exist in my fucking head! But now you're making me feel as if what I did was wrong, like I'm just some worthless cock slut who just couldn't get enough and so now it's like I can't win. I can't do this anymore, daddy. I just want it to stop! Please! Please, make it stop!"

Those last couple of words were uttered with such anguish that Bobby could feel his heart melt with sympathy for his bruised and battered son. Falling to the bed beside his boy, he wrapped Sam up in his arms and ran his fingers over the chestnut strands as his very life cried openly into the crook of his neck, letting out all the agony and confusion those evil boys had inflicted upon him.

"It's gonna be okay," Bobby murmured into his son's head, tears streaming down his face. "Nothing is ever going to happen to you again, Sam. I promise you that."

Sam looked up at his father with an expression so childlike, the sight of it destroyed whatever was left of Bobby's shattered soul. "I just want to make it stop, daddy."

Unable to respond to the heartbreaking admission, Bobby tightened his arms around the boy's shaking frame and held on for dear life as Sam's shuddering breaths evened out by the claiming of sleep, leaving his father behind to weep softly against his forehead.

"I'll make it stop, son," he said. "Don't you worry...they're all gonna pay."

* * *

Missouri awakened to the sound of objects being hurled across Dean's room, her maternal instincts kicking in gear as she high tailed it to her son's doorway, stopping dead in her tracks at the sight of her boy's anger. The muscles hidden beneath his t-shirt flexed with every rapid movement needed to destroy whatever was left of his small bedroom, his loud curses echoing through the bare walls of what used to be his sanctuary. Broken glass littered the floor in jagged patterns of dull crystal, the sharp blades crunching beneath Dean's feet as he ripped drawers from their respective places, the contents of each one flying through the air to land beside the pointed edges of Dean's shattered mirror. Knives etched themselves into the wall from the force of Dean's throws, chipping the paint and leaving tiny holes inside the plaster. When the last one flew in her direction, she barely had time to duck before it whirled past her head and clanged against the bathtub across the hallway, making Missouri's son gasp in horror as the realization of what he'd done hit him like a ton of bricks.

Within the span of two seconds, he was on his knees beside her, running his hands all over to check for damage that wasn't there. His concern made her smile, and she reached out to drag her palm over his tear-stained cheek in a blatant attempt to give the boy the kind of love she knew he needed. She waited in silence, understanding flashing across her sympathetic eyes, until her boy lunged at her the way she knew he would, sobbing violently into the soft fabric of her nightgown. She wrapped her arms around him and watched as he let go of everything he'd been holding in since the day the child she once knew stumbled on her doorstep, releasing all of his pent-up emotion through the salty droplets trailing down his sensitive skin. His sorrow ripped her apart, the evidence of her son's pain the cruelest joke fate could inflict upon the heart of a mother.

"Hush, baby," she whispered. "Tell me what happened. He found you in bed with Sam, didn't he?"

Dean stiffened in her arms, slowly raising his head to peer shockingly into her knowledgeable face. His tiny sniffle was masked by his hand as he wiped the back of it over his nose, erasing the wetness there until it was nothing more than a distant memory.

"I had a vision of you two tangled together between the boy's sheets. I'm not a moron though. I could see it coming even before I received that special vision. Doesn't take a rocket scientist to see you boys care for each other. Lord knows why when you've only just met. Now, while I'm happy as a pig in shit that you've found someone you have a real honest to god connection with, sleeping with that child is not in his best interests. Not now. He's been through far too much and as much as he cares for you, what happened with you both was just his way of coping with a lot of emotions thrown his way. It wasn't necessarily an act done out of love, though I know for a fact that your blushing boy loves you somethin' fierce."

Dean's pained whimper made the rest of Missouri's words turn to ash in her mouth. "He called me a filthy beast, mama. Bobby said I was worthless just like those men did all those years ago. I did a horrible thing. I was careless with a damaged boy. I used him just as much as he used me. It was all wrong and now I don't know what to do. I didn't mean for any of this to happen. I'm so sorry that I couldn't be the kind of son you wanted me to be, ma. I disappoint everyone around me and no matter how hard I try, it's like I can't do anything right. It's so much easier to hold everything inside of me than risk being vulnerable and getting my heart broken. I know you're going to throw me away eventually, just like everyone else does so I try so hard to ignore my love for you and it's like I can't even do that right. I'm so sorry I'm such a bad boy, mama. I'm so fuckin' sorry."

Missouri watched her weeping son pour his soul out with an intensity that surprised even her, a slow build up of righteous anger creeping up her spine and tinghtening her muscles. Hearing about Bobby's words to Dean had her seeing red, and it wasn't long before she crushed her weeping son to her breast and plotted the man's demise while openly comforting the boy wrapped in her loving arms.

"Don't you worry, son. Mama's gonna make it all better. Look at me, baby."

Dean mustered up whatever strength he had left and allowed himself to stare into his mother's eyes, the hurt Missouri saw there far more than she could bear. Grabbing his face in both of her hands, she leaned forward and pressed their foreheads together, placing a soft kiss to his trembling lips.

"You are my boy, Dean. There is nothing you could do that would ever make me turn away from you. I don't care what it was Bobby said to you. He only said it out of anger for Sam. You are the best son I could ever ask for and I accept all of your faults because you're a strong young man who has been through more than his fair of troubles and, being the resilient son of a bitch that you are, you've survived every single one of them. Nothing could make a mother prouder. So, don't you dare go and talk about how you're worthless because you  _are_  worth something. You're worth something to  _me_."

Dean buried his face in Missouri's neck and tightened his hold on her middle, sobbing his 'I love you's' into her damp skin. The words made her smile and tears sprang to her eyes before she could stop them. After all this time, she finally had the proof of her boy's love for her. As the Moseley's clung to each other in the dead of night, Missouri was sure of two things. First, she loved her son more than anything else in the world, and she vowed right then and there that nobody would ever hurt that boy again as long as she lived. Second, she was going to beat the living hell out of Bobby Singer.

* * *

Sunlight peeked through the curtains of Sam's bedroom window as he sat up and groggily stepped foot outside his doorway in the direction of the kitchen, the sweet aroma of bacon and eggs filling his body with a voracious hunger that refused to be sated by anything other than food. He smiled at his father, plopping down in a kitchen chair while reaching awkwardly for the orange juice across the table, spilling the container in the process and staining the hardwood floors with bright splotches of orange liquid.

"Shit!" he cursed silently, grabbing napkins off the table and wiping up the mess with a few pats of his hand.

Bobby chuckled, turning his attention to the boy behind him. "You were always clumsy when you first woke up. I remember you being five and reaching to open up your window before you fell through it."

"I fell through my window?"

"Don't worry. It was only a couple of inches off the ground. You're lucky we weren't in the place we have now. If we were, you'd have had a couple of broken bones."

Sam smiled, sitting back down and smoothing his bangs away from his forehead.

Bobby's smile faded as they shared an awkward silence, trying to come up with the courage to say what was on his mind. "You know, Sam...I just wanted you to know that I'm...I'm glad you confided in me last night. I'm always going to be there for you and I just really hope you know that."

"Can we just not talk about it, dad?" Sam responded, looking at the ground. "I'm just so sick of talking about it. The past is the past and I just want to put it behind me."

"That's a pretty good idea," Bobby said.

Sam's brows furrowed in confusion before Bobby could turn back to his breakfast, the look on his face flashing warning signs in front of the old man.

"What is it, kid?"

"I just...dad, please don't get mad at me when I say this...but I just wanted to know if I could, well, if maybe I could see Dean?"

Bobby stiffened and turned his back on Sam, ignoring the boy's pleading eyes.

"Dad, you can't be mad at him for this. I'm the one that wanted him to do it. I know we made a mistake and we both did it for the wrong reasons...but I don't regret it. Well, I do, but not in the way you think I do. I just wish it had been more special. Our first time and all that"- Sam cut himself off to rise from the table, putting both hands up as if in prayer-"Look, I know you think he's a bad seed and I know he said all that stuff to you back there but he was just reacting. He didn't mean any of it, I swear-"

"Goddammit, boy!" Bobby snapped, slamming the pot on the stove. "That child is bad news and I refuse to just sit here and allow him to poison my son's mind. Now, I don't want to hear another word in this house about Dean Winchester. Do you understand me?"

Sam's body whipped back as if he'd just been slapped, his blood turning to ice in his veins. "What did you just say?"

The color drained from Bobby's face as soon as Sam shot suspicious eyes his way, hanging his head down as if he'd just been caught stealing cookies from a cookie jar. "Dammit, Sam. Just do what your daddy tells you and stop poking your nose in where it don't belong. Now, I want you to sit there, eat your breakfast, and help me clean up before our guest arrives. It's about time we properly thanked him for saving your life."

Bobby stormed off before Sam could stop him, walking up the stairs and slamming his door shut with a resounding bang. Sam fell back on his chair and put his palms over his face, desperately trying to remember something important about that name. When it finally clicked, he gasped in recognition as it all came back to him.

 _Gabriel_. That man in school had used the exact same name when referring to Sam. None of it made any sense and the weary teenager sighed in frustration, unable to understand why the mention of it had him shivering in recollection, almost as if he'd heard it somewhere long before Gabriel ever brought it to his attention. He decided then and there that when Hank came over, he would ask him if he knew anything about it. He'd had a brief conversation with him in the car on the way back to his house and one of the things he'd learned was that Hank seemed to know an awful lot about the goings on in this neighborhood, with the exception of Dean's family, of course. If he knew so much about most of the residents, maybe he'd heard of the name "Winchester" as well.

Sam leaned back and closed his eyes as a sudden fatigue swept through his entire body, thinking so hard after the night he'd had draining whatever was left of his remaining energy. His whispered words fell on deaf ears as he drifted off into a peaceful sleep, questions of an unknown nature threatening whatever was left of his precious sanity.

"Winchester...where the hell have I heard that name before?"


	10. Warrior Sammy

Bobby Singer stood in front of his bathroom mirror with a pensive look on his face, the resemblance to Sammy's faraway expressions so striking, it would have stopped the old man dead in his tracks had he not been so preoccupied with the movement of his fingers as they formed intricate knots into an unruly necktie. His thoughts kept haunting him with recollections of Sam's tears frozen in a moment of overwhelming sorrow, the words he'd used to convey his feelings playing on repeat in Bobby's head like some recurring nightmare meant to torture him. But what bothered him even more was how his mind kept turning its attention from Sam to Dean, making Bobby snort in disgust at the nagging voice in his head telling him that what he did to the Moseley kid was wrong. He didn't want to believe that, especially after discovering the boy's true origins.

Receiving a dream in the middle of the night from a bloodthirsty demon hell-bent on the destruction of the world through your only son was…shocking, to say the least. After all this time, it seemed as though Azazel had finally managed to track him down, despite his attempts to shield Sam from his prying eyes. He could still hear the voice of the treacherous demon, smooth as silk and just as menacing as the yellow orbs which twinkled with glee at the old man's obvious discomfort. Finding out that your son had just fucked his brother was one thing, but finding out that Dean was, in fact, the one person Bobby was trying so hard to keep from Sam was too much to handle. He'd tried so hard to keep both Azazel and Dean from finding Samuel, but it seemed as though all of his efforts had proven futile. Now he had his son to contend with on top of it all. There was, after all, no way in hell that Sam was going to want to stay away from Dean. Not unless the kid did something to change Sam's thoughts about him.

_Looks like I'm gonna have to do somethin' about that boy…_

A loud bang broke Bobby from his scheming thoughts, the incessant pounding making him frown in confusion. Walking down the stairs, he froze in horror as he took in the countenance of a very angry Missouri Moseley, her murderous glare making it quite clear that she was out for blood, or more specifically,  _his_  blood. Gulping in large lungfuls of air, he forced his fear down into the pit of his stomach and carefully unlocked the door. Before he could even think to open it, Missouri barged in and punched him in the face, the sharp knuckles hitting his nose head on. Blood gushed from between his fingers as he cupped his face with his hand, falling to the floor and looking up at the vengeful woman with tear filled eyes.

"Ow! Missouri! What the hell did you do that for?"

"Shut up!" she screamed, kicking him hard in the ribs. "You aren't going to make another peep, Bobby Singer. I'm going to speak and you're going to listen to every goddamn word I have to say. Are we clear?"

Bobby hesitated a second before nodding, ignoring the sound of Sam's footsteps as he came to the last step of the staircase, placing one hand over the newel post while staring confusedly at Missouri. The angry woman kept her eyes focused on Bobby, approaching the injured man with a scowl scary enough to ward off demons.

"I woke up last night, Bobby," she began, the stillness with which she spoke sending shivers up Sam's spine. "Do you know what I woke up to?"

Bobby shook his head, too frightened to speak.

"I woke up to my son destroying his bedroom. Lamps and dresser drawers flying everywhere, jagged pieces of glass crunching beneath his feet as he hurled a fucking knife at my head. You're lucky I ducked in time because he could have fucking killed me! There were tears in his eyes, Bobby. You know why they were there, yes?"

Bobby's face wanted to contort in anger at the mention of her wretched son, but his trepidation at the woman's reaction had him acknowledging her words in reluctance, holding her gaze as she continued to speak words he didn't want to hear.

"I heard every single word you said to him. I gotta tell ya, Bobby, with the way I'm feeling right now, you're lucky I don't kill you and make your son watch. Thank god I love Sammy too much to leave him fatherless, huh?"

When Bobby didn't answer, Missouri kicked him again, enjoying the howl of pain she received for her actions. "I kept repeating everything that you said to my son and do you know what stuck out most? Filthy…little…beast."

Sam and Bobby both watched befuddled as tears spilled down the woman's cheeks. "Did you know that Dean was abducted when he was thirteen? He got kidnapped by a bunch of child rapists. Yes, Bobby. That's exactly what I said. Child…rapists. You know what they liked to do for fun with my boy? I can't tell you how many nights that kid laid in the bed they chained him to crying out for his mama, only to be slapped across the face… _hard_. That was just about the time he had a cock shoved so far down his fucking throat, he couldn't breathe. He almost choked to death. That's basically what happens when someone has your nose in between their fingers while simultaneously trying to shove something into your windpipe."

Missouri stopped the pacing she'd been doing and fell into a chair in the entryway, her eyes faraway as she recounted a story so painful, Sam could feel it with every breath he took, squeezing his heart with its deathlike grip. Tears fell down the woman's cheeks, an uncomfortable cloud settling over the three occupants of the Singer household as the woman began once more, her quiet words voicing the evidence of her son's pain.

"He was raped for twelve hours straight once. Two guys held him down while one occupied his mouth, and two shoved themselves into his ass…his thirteen year old ass. He screamed as loud as he could but that didn't do a goddamn thing. They raped him over and over and over again. They put a shock collar on the boy and forced him to bark like a dog, telling him that he was worthless and that his mother was never gonna come for him. When they were inside him, they'd tell him that he was a filthy little beast and that his parents abandoned him because they knew he wouldn't amount to shit. For a while, they actually had him believing that I was the one who told them to take him, to dispose of the child that I'd rather die than love. For four years, they had him, Bobby. It wasn't until they decided they was gonna kill him that his will to survive outshined his depression and self loathing, and he somehow managed to escape once they'd opened their car door, running off into the woods where his body was supposed to be buried and outrunning them all into the city. Amazing that he was able to do that for being as malnourished as he was. See, that's the thing with my son; he's one hell of a stubborn boy. Not only that, but he's strong. He's so damn  _strong_. He's so strong he was able to tough it out and deal with everything he'd been through, and not once did he fall over and die like anyone else would have at the words you spewed from your disgusting mouth last night. You brought back every single wretched memory that he's been trying so hard to ignore and rather than give in to the urge to put a bullet through his brain, he instead fought with everything he had in him, throwing his shit all over the place in a blinding rage."

Missouri got up and walked over to Bobby, kneeling beside him and taking his throat in her hand. "If you  _ever_  do anything to my son like that again, I will make sure you spend the rest of your life regretting it. I'll find a way to put you through every single torture Dean endured, and I'll watch the whole fucking thing go down without once interfering. Do. You. Understand?"

"Yes," Bobby whispered.

Without another word, Missouri got up, gave Sam a sorrowful smile, and walked out the front door. The room fell completely silent, the gears in Sam's brain working overtime at everything he'd just heard. When he didn't think he could stand the quiet any longer, he ran outside without a word to his father and chased down the woman who'd become like a mother to him, catching her just as she was about to pull out of the driveway.

"Sammy! What the hell are you doing out here, boy? You best go inside that house right now, ya hear?"

"I can't!" Sam exclaimed. "You can't expect me to go inside and forget everything you told my father. Not when all I can think about right now is Dean. I want to see him, Missouri. I…I have to."

Missouri sighed sadly, shutting off her engine and putting her head down. When she finally looked at Sam, it was as if the woman he'd fallen head over heels for had disappeared, leaving behind only a shell of her former self. "I know you care about Dean, Sammy. But the last thing that boy needs right now is anyone's pity. He feels weak after breaking down in front of me the way he did last night. Damn boy is already making it up by acting like the whole thing never happened and treating me like I'm his enemy. I can't stand to see my child this way and having you there…it would only cause more problems. I just…I have…to take care of my boy now. Can you understand what I'm saying, Sam? I  _have_  to put him first. I can't do that with you there. The sight of you causes too many feelings for him, honey. He's not ready to handle them yet."

Sam ignored the tears stinging his eyes and nodded, sniffling as he tried to keep his emotions in check. "I understand."

Missouri smiled. "Good. You'll see him in school on Monday. I promise you that much. Just keep away until then, okay? I love you, Samuel. You do know that, right?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Then get back inside that house and tend to your father. Despite all his faults, he seems like a good man. Take care of yourself, hon. I'll see you soon."

Sam watched as she pulled out of the driveway and folded his arms over his chest, scowling at the empty space her car had left.

"No you won't."

* * *

"And then she just left! Told me to stay away from Dean and everything!"

Hank tried to hide his scheming smile as he sat on the edge of the mattress, watching Sam pace back and forth across his bedroom floor. Listening to his complaints, as well as his questions about the history of the town's residents was both a breath of fresh air and a curse Hank wasn't quite so eager to deal with just yet. The child's persistence would most certainly serve him well when he was on the front lines of hell's army. There was no doubt about that. But as much as the demon wanted it, he couldn't allow Sam the privilege of becoming privy to his destiny so quickly, not when he still had so much to learn. The child needed to hone his skills, to get out in the real world and take down the so-called "bad guys" long enough for the devil on his shoulder to mold him into the kind of fighting machine needed to lead his fellow brethren in the fight against the forces of light. There was no way Hank could grant him access to the many secrets hidden just beneath the surface, ready to be discovered at the hands of a meddlesome boy who was smack dab in the middle of it all. But while keeping such a perspicacious boy from the answers he so desperately sought was proving more problematic than the demon ever thought possible, it was the close ties existing with both Bobby and Missouri that was rapidly becoming Hank's own undoing. But that was something he could dwell on later, when he didn't have a troubled child in his face digging for clues he wasn't ready to discover. He had to find a way to bring him to a different direction other than the one he wanted to go in, but still in the same ballpark as the truth. As Sam kept hammering on and on about the brother he didn't know he had, Hank came up with a plan.

"Sam, I don't want you to get so bent out of shape about this whole Winchester thing. The name may ring a bell for me, but as of now, I have no idea where I've heard the name before. However, I have been meaning to tell you something for a while now about your friend, Dean. I've been a bit reluctant based on the lack of facts I've acquired, but I believe that you should know, being that you seem to be so attached to this particular boy. May I have the pleasure of sharing my news with you without being judged?"

Sam sat beside Hank on the bed with a look of pure wonderment. "Um…y-yeah, sure."

Hank sighed warily. "This may sound…strange and not at all what you're used to but I'm thinking that I can trust you with what I believe to be valuable information. It goes back to a dark secret that I don't know if you're quite ready to hear yet, but you are my friend and I'm pretty sure that I can trust you to be…discreet about what I'm about to divulge."

Hank took a deep breath, prepping himself for the myriad of emotions he was about to fake for Sam's sake before looking into the boy's eyes. Placing a hand over Sam's, he continued, "There are certain things about the world that people don't know. Well, some people do, but the rest of them ignore it. Basically, I'm talking about supernatural beings. You know, monsters under the bed and all that. As much as you probably want to believe that I'm crazy or that none of this stuff is real, it is. I assure you that not only do these things exist, but there are certain people out there who protect us from them. They're called-"

"Hunters," Sam interrupted, voice full of bewildered confusion.

Hank blinked. "You know about them." It wasn't a question.

"Hank…dad was a hunter. Still goes on hunts, as a matter of fact. He taught me some stuff about vamps, werewolves and the like. Never gave me enough information to do it on my own though. Said I was too young and that he wanted more for me."

Hank smirked to himself.  _He thought he was so slick, keeping the boy from me. Too bad that plan backfired._

"Wait…how do you know about hunters anyway?"

"Because I used to be one," Hank replied. "Way back when I was a young boy."

"What happened?"

"Certain circumstances prevented me from continuing on. But none of that's important. What's important is that I believe your friend just might be one of us."

Sam nearly choked on his own tongue. "You think Dean is a hunter?"

"You can't tell me it doesn't make sense, Sam. You've mentioned his fighting skills, I've seen him with certain weapons known only to hunters on more than one occasion and just the other day, I caught him following what I believed to be a Rigaru. You told me that this Missouri is a psychic so that could somehow work into the equation as well. Maybe she finds the hunts for him and he goes on them. Or…well, I suppose he could do it alone. I'm not really sure but I have this strange feeling that your boy is not who he claims to be."

Sam opened and closed his mouth, trying to find words to add to a conversation he never thought he'd be having about Dean. He supposed it made sense for a loner like Dean to be a hunter, especially with the array of books he'd discovered in the boy's bedroom pertaining to the supernatural. But if he was who Hank claimed, then Missouri was keeping one hell of a secret from Sam. Or maybe the men who'd abducted Dean weren't human, thus paving the way for the boy they'd mistreated to seek revenge and ultimately become a hero to the people of Kansas. Either way, Sam was burning for some sort of truth to it all, something that would link Dean to the same lifestyle as Bobby. If Dean was a hunter, maybe he could teach Sam how to become one as well. If he knew how to protect himself, then there would be no need for a bodyguard at school. Sam could just take out those bastards who violated him all on his own, without anyone's help. Not only that, but he could also discover the mystery behind Dean Moseley, and maybe save him from himself in the process.

"Do you think I should confront Dean about this?"

Hank furrowed his brows in thought. "Not sure that's such a good idea. Try to keep an eye on him first. You could do a little spying. I'm sure I could help you with that, if you were willing to go down that route. Maybe the clues will come together on their own. You could be a hunter too, you know. Think about it, Sam; there'd be nobody to hurt you anymore. You'd be able to protect yourself and pick up some useful skills that your father obviously doesn't plan on teaching you. You deserve to be independent, Sammy, not a maiden in distress."

Sam thought about taking out Seth and all the others who'd turned his world upside down and smiled to himself. He could be a hero. He could finally stand up to those bastards and take down others just like him. He sought vengeance, a way to personally make everyone who'd left him bruised and bloodied pay for all that they'd done. He could save others from the same cruel fate and while he was at it, destroy all the supernatural ghouls and goblins threatening to take over the world. For once in his miserable existence,  _he_  would be the strong one.

But what about Dean? Wasn't Dean the most important person of all? Shouldn't he figure out how to help him first? And what about the strong connection they both shared? Wasn't that another subject worth exploring? So many mysteries lied within seeing distance and Sam's mind was so jumbled full of possible answers that his head spun. But while he may have felt overwhelmed by it all, one thing was for sure; everything here was strategically interwoven in some way, like some kind of complicated web spun by an intelligent spider of fate intent upon devouring the flies that couldn't figure a way out of the cruel thread. Sam had to find that way, and find it he would...with Hank's help.

Sam looked up at Hank with fierce determination, all traces of the battered boy he'd become disappearing as a new strength took over his fragile bones, replacing fear with a bravery he didn't even know he had. Tonight, he was going to start getting answers, and nothing on God's green earth was going to stop him from getting what was his.

"So...when do we start?"


End file.
